Checklists
by Gin's Comettail
Summary: A G/D/B study in absurdity. Harry's left Ginny at Hogwarts, but does that mean any devastatingly sexy pair of boys can swoop in and steal her heart, Blaise wonders? To which Draco says - Wait, WHAT?
1. Chapter 1

****

Chapter One

**-- I disclaim. Warnings: smut out the ears, silliness reigns supreme. Semi-DH compliant. --**

_

* * *

_

From the desk of Lucius F. Malfoy:

_Dear my son,  
__Remember these tenets as you move in public circles.  
__Speak not our Master's name.  
__Dare not act rashly or immaturely, but to avoid attention, hold yourself as an affable, lighthearted boy of seventeen normally would.  
__Fear not prying by the rabble concerning our activities. Answer only that you do not know, or care, about the larger world of politics and you are simply pleased to see your father's dear friend Mr. Thicknesse awarded such high honors for his Law Enforcement work.  
__For heavens' sake, Draco, be careful of your personal appearance. Another stain on your clothing and the only way you will get new clothes is if you are offered the Mark._

_Warmly –  
__Your father._

_

* * *

_

From the mental checklist of Blaise L. Zabini:

_Siphon off as much of the good liquor into Carry-All Flask as humanly possible.  
__Find hottest, most shaggable person at party.  
__Drag said hottie off to Tenerife, shag silly until school begins again._

* * *

"'scuse me…" Someone bumped Draco's elbow, and he jumped, startled. The person roughly brushed by him, making him worry he'd wind up smearing foie gras pate all over his shirt.

"Excuse you, indeed," he said in a cold tone.

"Oh, Dray. Poor silly sod. Here," and the tall, dark boy shoved an over-full cup into his hand. Wary again of his silk-ruffled shirt, Draco hastily sipped at the cup to get the water in it down to a safe level. The only shame of it was, it wasn't water at all.

"What on earth?!" he sputtered, grabbing Blaise Zabini by the sleeve. "Even the punch in the corner isn't that strong! Where'd you get that?"

Cool as a cucumber, Zabini chuckled, twisted out of Draco's grasp, and said before flitting away, "The punch in the corner."

Well. He was supposed to be concentrating on non-political affairs. The mystery of Zabini's liquor was non-political, right? He slipped away from the ring of adults his parents were talking to – they'd probably be glad he wasn't loafing around awkwardly behind them.

It took work to tail his yearmate through the crowd of dignitaries – he was tall and easy to spot, but also fast, and not too concerned with looking foolish while ducking and dodging all the Ministry functionaries, while Draco had to smile blandly, and nod pleasant greetings to all the ones he recognized. He caught up with Blaise by the champagne fountain. Blaise seemed to be idly waving his wand about in the air near the fountain, but Draco, eyes narrowing, was struck by a thought – if he had a… - he did, the bastard, Draco was sure of it!

Sliding between two fat blokes, he managed to sneak up on Blaise and accidently-on-purpose fall all over him. He caught himself by throwing a hand out, a hand that collided with Blaise's side. Sure enough, in the boy's robe pocket – the hard shapes of several shrunken-down flasks.

"Nice trick," Blaise murmured into Draco's ear, and Draco began to preen at his cleverness, till Blaise continued, "but if you wanted to grope me, you didn't need to concoct some elaborate ploy to do so – I'm very friendly."

Draco recoiled, hand snapping away as if Blaise's small, lithe waist was burning him. Blaise's full lips were excellent for pouts: "Aw, you're not feeling friendly? Too much time locked up in a house with some seriously unfriendly bastards would do that, I suppose…" he mused.

Draco froze mid-recoil at that. Blaise, Madam Zabini, and the rest of their family line, in fact, were all notoriously independent of the Dark Lord's control. "I haven't a clue what you're speaking of. And neither do you."

"You haven't a clue what to do, caught up in a fucked-up mess like you are, is what you mean," Blaise countered in a fierce whisper, while keeping his expression light and relaxed so as not to attract attention. For all that his family was completely above the cloak-and-dagger game the Malfoys played, he was amazingly tactful and subtle.

"Like you would fare better," Draco said wearily, then cursed himself for such a revealing remark, and for the obvious crack he'd left open for Blaise – the same cracks he'd gotten all summer. 'Did the little wannabe Death Eater wet his robes, seeing a real-life murder?' 'Did Narcissa's baby boy get scared out in the big wide world?' His Aunt Bellatrix had said nothing at all, only spat on the hem of his robes whenever she'd seen him. He'd taken to hiding in the Manor's library quite a bit after that.

"I'm sure I wouldn't," Blaise said with a compassionate note in his voice. Looking around to see that they were unobserved, he leaned closer to Draco, and with two fingers under his chin, tilted his head up, forcing the shorter boy to stop gazing at the floor and meet his eyes. They were, Draco noticed with a shock, nearly violet blue.

Blaise, meanwhile, was studying Draco's face in turn. "Such a shame," he whispered, voice husky. "Such gorgeous features, the perfect aristocratic face… all pale from being shut up all summer, and so stressed from life at home…"

Draco jerked back, and cracked his head on a wall. He realized only then that he'd been backing up into a corner as Blaise advanced on him. "Dammit!" he cursed uncharacteristically, less from the way his head stung from the blow, and more because he was frightened that his glamour charms to appear fresh and well-rested had worn off already.

Blaise mistook the curse – "Shit. I'm sorry!" and the boy seized his elbow in a surprisingly secure grasp, steering him out the room, down the hall, and into the loo. Faced with a mirror, Draco could see just how bad he looked – too-thin cheeks, since he pinched leftovers rather than dine with Bella or Yaxley or other powerful Death Eaters, shadows round his eyes from exhaustion, and yellow splotches of fading bruises on his forehead and cheek. Blaise, meanwhile, was fussily tending to his newest wound, dabbing his head with wet paper towels, and probably mussing his hair to boot.

"I've got it," Draco cut him off with a dull tone and a stony look, turning his back on the mirror, drawing his wand and healing the knot on his skull easily. He'd learned that one the first week, when he had to take charge of the prisoners…

They faced each other in silence for a moment. Predictably, Blaise soon broke it: "My mother's an… 'interesting' woman when it comes to her personal life, but _politically_? I'm eternally thankful for growing up her way. No political threats, or loyalties and allegiances. No tattoos marring hot bodies-" he eyed Draco's arms, and Draco was keenly aware of how his sleeveless silk tunic emphasized not only what little muscling he had, but also his pure, unMarked skin. "Even as far as her love-life goes…" and he trailed off, inky blue eyes fixed on Draco's.

"Oh?" Draco prompted when he didn't seem about to continue.

Blaise smiled, eyes glittering, looking like he had a tremendous secret. That expression made the two steps he took closer to Draco seem almost natural. "She's found a much better currency than the fear your family and your master rely on…"

"What-" Draco tried to ask, but Blaise interrupted.

"What currency? Is it that difficult to guess?" It wasn't, really – Blaise had inherited his mother's amazing genes.

His mouth was too dry to answer, but Blaise knew that he knew, apparently, because he leaned in, nose-to-nose with Draco. "I'll share some of it with you…" and his lips engulfed Draco's.

He let out a sort of snuffling gasp against Blaise's cheek, but the boy whose lips were sealed to his and whose tongue was pillaging his mouth didn't notice a bit.

Draco had coldly dissected the more confusing of his adolescent feelings and yearnings, inevitably leading to certain irrefutable conclusions about just how broad his personal preferences ranged. Till now, though, he had only acted on his feelings for females. Kissing Blaise was a revelation on every level, and they were broken apart only when a fuddy-duddy Law Enforcement official let out a very appalled noise. Smooth as anything, Blaise reached around Draco, fingers grazing his bum, and snagging Draco's wand from his back pocket, whipped it out and quickly cast a Silencio, an Oblivio, and a Repelling spell to send the man back out into the corridor.

"Now," he drew back a step from Draco, hands on Draco's shoulders, "where were we?"

Draco tried to give him an icy glare. To his alarm, it came out about as strong as a kitten's. Blaise's declaration against the Dark Lord, his kiss, and that blindingly fast wand-work, combined with the very erotic feel of Blaise's hands on his arse and the terribly phallic symbolism of Blaise grabbing Draco's wand…

The pounding pulse of a headache was gone, as was the typical constant background drone in his mind as he repeated his father's instructions to himself. It was bliss.

Giving up completely, he suggested, "More snog-" and then broke off into a cough when the bathroom door swung open.

Blaise used a spell, "Muffliato," that Draco had never heard before – all the noise of the party outside, and the shuffling of the Ministry official, dropped off to a low murmur. "Go on," Blaise nodded to him.

With a quick look to the Ministry man, who was paying no mind to them, Draco continued in a low tone. "More snogging." It came out demanding, needy.

Blaise teasingly shook a finger at him. "Now, Draco, I hardly think this is the place…" Draco wanted to scream – who had bloody started it in the first place? "I think," Blaise continued, "that we need to continue this elsewhere."

"Hah," Draco scoffed, hollowly, "don't I wish."

"I've got a place in the Canary Islands if you're interested…"

"What, you think I'm not?" Draco asked bitterly. "I can't think of anything that sounds more incredible than getting out from under the eye of –" he gulped, and smoothly continued, "my _relatives_…"

Blaise acquired a frighteningly wicked look. "I've an idea."

"Three scarier words the world has not yet heard," Draco said dryly, forcing himself to be distant, sarcastic, to get this incredible, divine-tasting boy to stop teasing him with visions of escape. There was no escape for anyone at Malfoy Manor, he'd seen that well enough last month, with Professor Burbage. Not unexpectedly, bile rose in his throat and he gave his thoughts a hard tug away from those gory thoughts.

Of course, that left him standing in a bathroom with Blaise's blue eyes centimeters from his own. "You with me, Dray?"

"Tell me the idea," he said in an exhausted tone.

* * *

If he'd been sensible he'd probably have waited to present this idea to Lucius formally, in his library, but that course of action meant returning to Malfoy Manor, and, clinging to Blaise's scheme with all his might, Draco couldn't bear that thought.

"Father, I may have over-stepped my mandate slightly, but I believe you'll find my actions to be commendable in the course of the Cause."

Immediate displeasure flashed across Lucius's face like lightening, but as Draco described his discovery that the son of the Widow Zabini was sympathetic to their Lord's cause, and proposed retreating to the boy's villa to work on 'turning him,' Lucius's face sank into inscrutable thoughtfulness.

Besides, if he'd done it formally, Narcissa wouldn't have been present. Lucius was frowning, about to lay down his edict on the situation. "Dearest," Narcissa murmured, and he leaned down to give her his ear. His parents had perfected, over the course of their double life, the art of speaking nearly inaudibly, but that had only presented to Draco a new challenge – learning to read lips.

His parents were canny – Narcissa bent her face so that to any onlookers she could have simply been whispering some simpering thought to his father, and so Draco's line of sight was less than perfect. He caught important scraps, at least: 'ideal change of scenery' – 'his own safety, and a chance to do something' – 'my sister' – (Lucius's lips thinned, at that point, and Draco was minutely cheered to think his father had as much distaste for Aunt Bella as he himself did.) – 'prove himself,' Narcissa said, with a determined look on her face, and Draco saw his father let out a breath.

Draco let one out as well, and waited impatiently for his father to officially approve so he could go grab up Blaise, tell him the good news, and high-tail it out of the Ministry.

* * *

Life in Tenerife Island was idyllic. Draco floated through his time there in a haze of blissful peace. He had forgotten what living like a normal boy entailed, forgotten that it was possible to spend a summer by the pool, without keeping half an ear cocked for the sounds of someone sneaking up on him, or of blood-curdling screams. Every night was spent chugging beers, throwing each other into the pool, or playing endless games of strip Exploding Snap.

And that was the other thing – it was incredible enough to live normally, but with Blaise, 'normal' wasn't the right word to describe their day-to-day life. Heavenly, or paradisiacal, might come closer. Blaise's villa was luxurious where a Malfoy vacation house – if Malfoys took vacations – would have been ostentatious. The entire complex was dotted with courtyards, the better to soak up the African sun, and each courtyard was filled with silken hammocks, delicately tinkling fountains, double-wide chaise lounges put to good use by the two boys… which brought Draco up against the issue of Blaise himself.

His conversation was as sparkling as champagne, and as deft as his wizard's chess skills. His constant ideas for mischief would have been wearying, if they weren't just so compellingly amusing. His body was to die for, all slimness and paleness crowned with darkness, and muscles, muscles that made Draco shiver, for once glorying at the thought of being under someone else's power. Blaise was an expert at making Draco shiver, and knew it, and would get that infuriating smirk right before he was about to make Draco gasp for mercy, right before he was going to laugh and laugh at the shorter blonde writhing beneath him.

And the day, about a week after arriving, when Blaise spontaneously Transfigured bales of driftwood into planks, and with a handful of little thin pointy things and a hammer, constructed a raft with seemingly no magic at all – another of the bizarre habits the boy had that fascinated Draco. Then he summoned a pod of dolphins – who did that kind of thing? – and had them tow the raft out to sea, where Draco and Blaise floated, lulled by waves and baking sun, into a strangely peaceful, almost meditative state. After than afternoon, Draco's nightmares became a great deal less frequent. Then the sun went down, Blaise summoned a few beers from shore, and when they finally arrived, the boys got a good deal rowdier, stripping to leave themselves exposed to the cool night air, and, with little else to do out at sea, exploring each other far more thoroughly than they had yet.

Draco didn't mind losing his virginity, in that sense, to Blaise, and he thought doing so at sea was a rather nice lark. But it _was_ a bit disconcerting that the loon insisted on being called "Lord Neptune, Ruler of the Oceans," the whole time.

Fun, was the simplest, and most strangely apt, way to describe the boy that Draco was falling for. And 'falling for him' was the only way he could phrase it that didn't sound completely… 'wet-blanket-ish,' in his head. Until the day they conjured a tiger cub for the amusement of it, realized it had escaped, and discovered tigers' love of swimming. They'd had to swim so far around the coast, chasing it, that Blaise's villa was out of sight around the side of the mountain. By the time they caught the cursed thing, neither Draco nor the cub could move, lying exhausted on the sand as twilight set in.

Blaise, as always, still hadn't burned up all his energy, and teased the now-cranky cub into playing – playing that quickly turned into the tiger taking swipes at him. When Draco, panicked at a slash of red on Blaise's ribcage, pelted over to his friend and turned the tiger into a canary easy as blinking, and Blaise chuckled at the look on his face, used Draco's healing charm to vanish his scratches, and tackled him into the sand…

Draco knew it was time to get used to the idea of 'falling' for someone, because the only other words that fit now were completely beyond the pale of sappiness.

_

* * *

_

A.N. - And we're off into the land of complete absurdity! And by absurdity I mean serious deliciousness. Ginny enters the story next chapter. And while I've got your attention in my preliminary author's note, I'd like to let out a quick little rant - this is NOT going to be one of those - "And the minute their eyes met they realized they were fated to be together for all eternity in a beautiful three-way symmetry." Ginny, Draco and Blaise are NOT long-lost-fated-soulmates, they're just in love, which is plenty awesome enough on its own, people! And HELL NO, they're not vampires or elementals or bonded Three Musketeers. (Not that I don't love "Unexpected" as much as the next Dracademented fangirl!! But reading story after story in which this magic switch goes off and from then on they walk with mysterious synchronous movements through life together and have trippy mind-reading powers... NO.) We're going to do this the hard way. They're three wildly different people and it's sooooo much more fun that way because then they hex the hell out of each other. And maybe have Angry Sex.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_From a song sung by Bellatrix S. Lestrange:_

"_His eyes are as red as the ninth level of hell,  
__His height is as towering as his power…  
__My life and my love, his might does compel;  
__How I wish to spy on him in the shower…  
__Between he and I, a few obstacles lie,  
__First, with minimal fuss, kill off Rodolphus,  
__Then prove to my Lord, I'm as good as my word,  
__Show him Drakie's note, with success he'll promote  
__His most loyal lieutenants, who crush enemies like ants…  
__These rhymes are too long, I shall hush up my song…  
__Hum diddly-hey… hmm-hmm…  
__(Ahh, Voldemort…)"_

_From Draco M. Malfoy's owl post:_

"_Dear Auntie Bella,  
__While I know you hope to see me finish my present assignment and rejoin our cadre of loyalists, I propose, for your glorification and to accrue honor for our family, my return to school. Reasons being, 1) I have enjoyed success in convincing Blaise Zabini of the rightness of our cause, and 2) I feel that I would be an asset to Headmaster Snape in taking the pulse of the student body, and 3) in helping turn other difficult cases, so that they may be all the more receptive to the teachings of Headmaster Snape, and Professors Carrow & Carrow.  
__On a more personal note, I know the disappointment in your eyes when you regard me. I hope that with a further year of schooling, I might firstly gain mastery of my powers, and secondly, hone my leadership abilities, so that in the future I shall meet success in working for our most revered, dreaded Dark Lord._

_In all sincerity,  
__Your nephew, Draco._

* * *

Maria Terrapin found her five minutes after the train set off. "Ooooh, ooh, Gin, wait up!" The shrill piping voice of the second-year had Ginny's ears aching, her skull feeling tight, precursor to another bloody headache.

She halted, tapped the refreshingly cool metal of her Quidditch Captain's badge, gave Arnold a quick squeeze, and with his calming hum setting her hand to vibrating comfortingly, took a breath and faced Maria. "Yes?"

The girl shrank a bit at the red-head's frown. "I'm supposed to tell you – your brother Percy and my sister Audrey got married last week." Maria was clearly thrilled at the romance of it, and in her eyes there was a clear spark of fondness for Ginny. The girl was looking at her like Ginny was her long-lost sister.

Her own aching lack of a sister was the only restraint on Ginny's temper when she unleashed it on the girl. "Is that so? Then don't even dream of talking to me ever again, because if you're associated with _HIM_ I refuse to acknowledge that you so much as exist," Ginny told her, trying to be firm, rather than cruel. Still, Maria was shrinking against the door of her compartment, and her two fellow Hufflepuff girls flung the door open, to rush to her support.

Head pounding now, Ginny uttered a quick curse, rooting them in place, and ducked around them, taking the compartment for herself. Locking the door, she curled into a tight ball around the ball of rage in her chest that plagued her at any thoughts of Percy. It had never been as bad as now, though – with the idea of that fucker having a lovely little wedding, when his Ministry fellows had turned poor Bill's into an uproar…

That thought only led to worse ones. The only things more upsetting to her than Percy's position on the wrong side of the fight, and her family's persecution, were the events that took place after the wedding – that horrifying two hours at the end of which everyone finally had to conclude that Hermione, Ron, and Harry had fled.

When she'd kissed him, back at the Burrow… it had been everything she'd imagined, sweetness, sunshine… well, and his tongue in the mess like some dying fish, but she never expected much from him on that front. She had expected, though, after a kiss like that, that Harry would of course take her with him. Hell, she'd expected him to at least try and get her alone again, but the only ones he met with on his own after she gave him his birthday present were Ron and Hermione. Merlin knew he ought to have respected her ability to fight, and given her sibling ties to Ron, ties of friendship to Hermione, and ties of snogging to Harry, the fact that they had left her, after raising her hopes, devastated her.

Furious, she'd taken up writing to Krum, since he'd eyed her so steadily during the wedding ceremony, but he was a bit too thick for satisfying correspondence. Dean wasn't speaking to her, after the whole dumping-him bit, and Michael's parents had sent him to relations in Canada with his baby sister. Ginny's tried-and-true method of distracting herself from life with boys, therefore, was impossible to carry out, and she settled back into despair.

The thoughts of Harry, the waves of bitterness, were drowning her now. She took one last shuddering breath, then finally, they overwhelmed her, and weary, she collapsed into sleep, mercifully.

* * *

It had been sunset when Draco had realized he loved Blaise, when the tiger turned on him, and sunset when Blaise had conceived of the plan that, with Aunt Bella's mercy, meant Draco could return to Hogwarts and be with his lover without the Dark Lord knowing of his failing allegiance. Now, sunset found them strolling the train as they rode back to the safety of Hogwarts, away from the twisted grasp of the Manor and its inhabitants. Blaise had been appointed Head Boy; Draco, hastily reinstated as a Prefect.

For the first time, the power that had been allotted to him by way of his father's influence as part of the plan to set him on the path to Death Eaterhood had ironically granted Draco the power to fulfill his own desires. He was still in a thrall as he savored that freedom, and so incredulous that the idea kept reappearing in his head and urging him to do things ten times more hair-brained than any stunt Blaise ever pulled.

He cocked a pale-golden eyebrow at his boyfriend. "Again?" Blaise asked in cool disbelief.

Draco nodded, received a weary but delighted grin, and hauled on the nearest doorknob, wand out, prepared to holler as he had twice already, "Everyone out! Prefect's privilege!" and take the emptied compartment over for their own most excellent purposes. Presently, they were working their way methodically through every applicable position in the Kama Sutra.

The doorknob, failing to twist in his hand, only jarred his arm with a bolt of static.

"Fuck, Draco, are you alright?" Blaise asked in his colorfully concerned way.

"Just a spark," he grunted, cold ire flooding him at the obstacle. "Now who on earth would dare lock…"

Rather than try the lock again, because he was a bit taken aback by the charge behind the curse on the doorknob, he stood on tip-toe until he spotted the sole occupant of the compartment where she was curled up in a corner. As Blaise, seeing in the window easily with his advantage in height, spotted her as well, the train came around the bend of the hill it had been behind, and the ruby sunset gleamed through the window of the compartment, throwing the girl into relief, and illuminating lush curves, blood-red hair, a flash of pale leg glowing a faint pink in the twilight.

The light also revealed her face, and that, more than any other enticing feature, rooted the boys to the spot. The same fascinating hints of grace and power played across her sleeping face as did across the face of the first tiger they'd encountered, at the Muggle zoo, that had spurred them on to try conjuring a cub. More intriguing still, the same baleful, discontented expression that the captive tiger had worn was haunting her face, even in sleep. Where Blaise was standing behind him, Draco sensed him stir, felt the press of Blaise's excitement against his pants. Draco eased back to lean against him as much as he could without losing his line-of-sight of the girl, and pressed together, they watched her sleep till the sun's last light drained to grey.

Then Blaise took charge, hustled him down the carriage, and this time took it upon himself to procure them an empty compartment and have his wicked way with Draco, showing a new enthusiasm so great that Draco couldn't help egging him on.

"Imagine…" he whispered, angling his mouth so his lips brushed Blaise's ear as he spoke. "We're pinning her down, ravishing her together, in synchrony. Or she's got us both, teasing us, and we're frantically kissing and grabbing for each other, but only she can give us the relief we need… or…"

He was still groping for words that would drive his lover on when with an immense groan, it became clear that no more words were needed, for Blaise. Proud and pleased, he spelled himself clean and dressed again as Blaise rolled off of him, and obedient to his boyfriend's demands of post-coital cuddling, rested his head on Blaise's lap. Blaise's hand was immediately tangled fondly in his hair, the other running too-long nails up and down his chest. "Thanks," Blaise managed, husky with satiation. After his breathing returned to a steadier rate he continued, "I am amazed, though, how willing you were to embrace her as a hot fantasy. I mean, if there was anyone I'd have ever expected to be hung up by name or family, it would have been you, even with a girl that fucking gorgeous…"

"Girl… family?" Draco managed through a yawn.

"You didn't recognize her, did you." his boyfriend stated in the quiet tone that was generally a prelude to Blaise springing some ridiculous bombshell on poor Draco's head. Draco shook his head gingerly. "Understandable – I suppose it's been a while since you bothered to pay attention to Ginny Weasley…"

Draco bolted up so fast he cracked his forehead on Blaise's chin.

* * *

Ginny had been so overcome with problems of the past, thanks to Maria Terrapin, that she'd forgotten entirely the problems that faced her now. Walking to the Thestral-drawn carriages, though, she was smacked in the face by the gaping absence of so many people she was used to seeing. All her Muggleborn friends were missing, even Dean, and she felt a pang of fear for him. Worse, for the first time, she was the only red-headed, befreckled person in the crowd, the only Weasley who would inhabit Hogwarts Castle from now on. And – her heart contracted at the sight of Lavender Brown, hand-in-hand with Seamus. Ginny had no boyfriend at her side, like she'd so often dreamed. The last time she'd had a boyfriend to take the carriage ride with was… back when she and Dean dated in her fourth year, two years ago now.

It wasn't only the absent friends and brothers that made her return to school such a horrible change – even preparing to come here had been a fright. Shopping in Diagon Alley had always been a painful experience, right from Ginny's very first time, when her parents had despaired of buying her Potions ingredients and her father had gotten in a fight and Tom Riddle had dropped into her life. But this year's outing, incredibly, had been as bad as that first one, since Ginny's father had had to take her to the Ministry, first, to sit and be interrogated by Dolores Umbridge for a full forty-five minutes, before she was allowed to walk out with a certificate proving her Blood Status.

And then, the horror this morning, walking into breakfast and having a bowl of cornflakes fall on her head, as her mother caught sight of the Prophet lying on the table, proclaiming Severus Snape's appointment as Headmaster.

Caught up in her dread of approaching the castle which she knew to be inhabited by Death Eaters – Death Eaters who would be in charge of her – it took Ginny a moment to realize two people had fallen in step behind her. Her only warning was a hissed, "Oh, prod her already," before a wand jabbed her in the back. She whirled, only barely muffling her shriek when she saw it was Neville and Luna.

They beamed at her and swept her off to an empty carriage to tell her why they hadn't found her on the train – apparently the Slytherins were throwing their weight around, now that Snape was in charge, and they'd been banished to the carriage where the witch with the food trolley kept refills, stuck among boxes until the train stopped and the witch came by and unlocked the door. It almost made Ginny feel chagrined for being in a bad mood about the train ride – at least she'd slept comfortably for the majority of it.

She made it up to Neville and Luna by giving them half her food at the Welcoming Feast – she didn't have much of an appetite, between Snape's outline of the changes that would be taking place at Hogwarts, and the way some of the Slytherins seemed to be looking at the Gryffindors as if they were food. She noticed Blaise Zabini's intense gaze on her. Zabini – the Head Boy?!

She wanted to curse – her life was doomed to be plagued by obnoxious Head Boys. _Perfect Percy the Prefect_, Fred and George's old chant ran through her head, and _BIG-HEAD Boy!_ The very badge on Zabini's powerfully built chest had once been on the chest of the boy who had once been her brother –

Exhausted to the bone, and more miserable about being at Hogwarts than she'd ever been before, Ginny retreated from Luna and Neville and went to bed.

* * *

Ginny and Neville ate breakfast together, since Luna was absent. McGonagall dropped the schedules next to the plate of bacon they were sharing. "Hey – I didn't sign up for Muggle Studies!" Neville exclaimed as he scanned his. Ginny, who had signed up for it, barely paid attention to Neville's trivial scheduling issues – "_Dark Arts?!_ We're learning Dark Arts?!" she yelped.

At her alarmed exclamation, half the other Gryffindors who were down for an early breakfast seized their own schedules, and shortly an angry buzz rose from the table. McGonagall was talking to a cluster of the new students who had formerly attended other schools, or had had tutors.

When Neville and Ginny charged her, a handful of other Gryffindors hot on their heels, she turned, hearing their clamor, and sighed. "Margaret," she called to a prefect a few feet away, "Give our new Gryffindors directions to their first classes of the day, please." She braced herself: "Now, how can I help you this morning, Miss Weasley, Mr. Longbottom?" – her tone was dry, and Ginny knew McGonagall was aware of why they were upset.

She plunged in anyway: "Do we really have to take Dark Arts classes?"

McGonagall's lips vanished, they became so white and thin with anger. "The Minister wants all of Britain's young wizards to embrace their heritage – their _whole_ heritage." She was clearly quoting something – a new, secret Educational Decree? Ginny wondered.

Neville immediately began chattering to McGonagall about how he'd rather fail it than ever cast Dark Arts spells, even if it meant detention his every waking moment.

McGonagall shuddered – looking past her, Ginny saw that Snape had walked in. "That's a very noble sentiment, Longbottom. Your parents would be very proud… before you try and whip your fellow Gryffindors up into a frenzy of sacrifice, though, I'd like to remind you that even your parents, as Aurors, were authorized to use Dark Arts spells. Some, such as your father, did not utilize them. Others, such as your mother, did, at need, in defense of themselves or others. I urge you, Neville, and you, Ginevra, not to drag those less resolute than yourselves into taking unwise stands against the school, or the Ministry."

McGonagall's words ran through Ginny's head all that first day – keeping her from pulling a Harry and denouncing the lies that were now being taught in Muggle Studies, making her at least take notes during Dark Arts, detaching her disgusted mind from the words her hand wrote, and keeping her from provoking the attention of Slytherin prefects, the new miniature tyrants of Hogwarts.

In doing so, she, unlike Neville, avoided stacking up fifteen detentions on her first day back. However, her meekness didn't keep her from official notice – probably thanks to her 'blood traitor' status, she seemed to be _constantly _flanked by Slytherin prefects. She only knew they were Slytherin by their robe hems – looking to see who was tailing her would probably just have seemed like a challenging action, and she wanted to wait and see how this new world would shake out.

_

* * *

_

A.N. - THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed last chapter, it was really exciting! Hope you like this one! (Let me know!!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_From the three pillars of femininity as held dear by Ginevra M. Weasley:__  
__Boys are put on this earth as eye candy and/or chivalrous props.  
__True love, the eternally romantic kind, is stopped by absolutely nothing, ever, period.  
__There is no such thing as, how did Ron put it, "being too popular for your own good."_

____

From the "Diabolical Super-Hot Scheme" of Blaise L. Zabini:

_Assure my lovely boyfriend of my evil intentions.  
__Assure the lovely woman of my good intentions.  
__Bring them together, keep them from killing each other, get on with the task of enjoying one _amazing_ year of sex._

__

From the wall of the Prefect's conference room:

**Prefects' Watch List  
**

_(subjects' schedules will be provided)_

_**N. Longbottom**__ (Dumbledore Cultist)  
__Monday: Greengrass. Tuesday: Marks. Wednesday: Sarraso…_

_**G. Weasley**__ (Blood traitor, known supporter of Undesirable #1)  
__Monday: Malfoy. Tuesday: Malfoy. Wednesday: Malfoy. Thursday: Malfoy…_

_**L. Lovegood**__ (Subversive)…_

* * *

In reality, aside from the new class material, and a great deal of detention for anyone who crossed a Slytherin, Hogwarts itself was as it had always been.

Gryffindor Tower, of course, was another matter. By the second week of classes it was rapidly apparent that Harry Potter wasn't about to show up, slay Snape, and free them all of the Carrows and Voldemort and Dementors and bad dreams in general. So many of their number were gone, replaced by students who were being _forced_ to attend Hogwarts, bringing oddities like sixth years crying for their mothers, and second years taking fourth year classes, and a third year who kept forgetting he wasn't at Beuxbatons and addressing everyone in French.

And despite all that, despite being stalked by Prefects, and having Carrows shouting at them twice a day, and being made to try severing curses on bugs, and rumors going around about what the Carrows did to students they punished, and Slytherins who were harassing the girls in her year, the thing Ginny missed most was tea with Hermione, and snogging. She and Harry had been very snog-heavy – well, come to think of it, all her relationships had been. And now the only boy around to keep her company was Neville, which was just… not really any help. Besides, Luna had announced a few days before her opinion that Neville would be a really good person to raise rainbow Crups with, so that was that. Luna was always good to buoy her spirits up – though not really someone Ginny had the same conversations with as she did Hermione, for sure.

So she developed a taste for coffee, instead, so as not to mope around in the afternoons with only herself as company for tea. The snogging was less easy to find a substitute for – she settled on ravenous boy-watching instead. She just wished Blaise Zabini would stop walking by the tree she was under, as he did rounds about the grounds.

It was a Friday, one of the good summery days September rarely doled out, and she'd finished her mounds of homework, and wanted to sketch out a few ideas that had struck her for the business she'd started at the end of last year. No one knew about any of that, except the people who'd bought from her. _Not even Harry,_ the nagging voice in the back of her head reminded her – he'd been so busy with his special lessons from Dumbledore, and with stalking Draco Malfoy, he'd never asked her what she was doing when she wasn't sneaking off to snog with him.

She shook off the melancholy thoughts, immersing herself in her latest designs. Just as she was sketching a rather pleasant fancy that had struck her, Zabini looped by again, and like a boy-starved fool – alright, she _was_, but still – she watched his arse intently until he turned again, to strut down the perimeter of the Forest.

Her thoughts on that new design were completely shot, now. With a huff and a sigh, she packed her things, cursing asshole Head Boys with nice arses.

* * *

"It's been two weeks now. What do you think?" Blaise challenged Draco, who hemmed and hawed.

"I dunno… she's an odd one…"

Blaise sighed, exasperated. "Sweet Circe, you've been following her for three hours a day. You think you would have 'gotten to know her' or whatever by now… I mean, you already know you're attracted to her."

"So?" Draco shrugged. "I'm attracted to lots of people, that doesn't mean I automatically want them in my bed."

Blaise just gave him a puzzled look as he tried to wrap his head around that notion, and Draco had to laugh. "Alright, alright, give me this weekend, okay? I know what you're going to say if I keep dragging my feet – I started it, on the train, with my little story… I just didn't know she was a blood tr-"

Blaise put his hand over Draco's mouth. "You know, you don't need to use language like that to impress me the way you did your mates over the summer, so cool it, okay?"

Contrite, Draco nodded.

"Good…" and the breathy tone that crept into Blaise's voice made Draco catch his breath. With that hint of things to come, he was less surprised than he might've been when Blaise's other hand caught both of his wrists, and pinned them above his head. He just arced eagerly against Blaise's body as Blaise shifted, straddling him. Taking his hand off Draco's mouth, Blaise bound his hands with Draco's own wand, and stripped him methodically.

Draco was wriggling shamelessly by the time Blaise stood, and, eyes fixed on Draco's erection, took off his clothes, item by torturous item. But before he came crawling back over the bed, he muttered some spell to himself, and Draco felt his joints freeze. "Oh – _you bastard_," he hissed.

"Well Draco, the whole point of tying you up is so that _I_ control what you feel. Can't have you thrusting up to meet me like that…" and he arranged himself lying along Draco's side, their bare skin heating each other. His hand was only inches away from where Draco desperately desired it, but thanks to Blaise's foresight, he couldn't get the relief he wanted. Instead he had to lay there as Blaise's fingers traced around his chest, his neck, his jaw line… tantalizingly down low again, right down his belly, and Draco moaned – it was the only way to hold back all the foolish words ready to rush out of his mouth, the begs and pleas…

"You know," came the husky breath by his ear, "if someone else was here there would be twice as much skin up against your body…"

"Blaise–" he started to complain, then a hand ghosted over him _right there_ and this time the moans were cutting off things he did want to say.

But Blaise was using every advantage he'd discovered in the last two months, and still whispering, "two hands there, instead of just mine" … "cute little body against you" … "two mouths latched against your neck like this-"

His talented mouth travelled south, taking his own sweet time. Draco wanted to scream – if his hands had been untied he could have shoved Blaise there, urged him roughly on. Instead Blaise sucked and kissed, carefree, pointedly ignoring Draco's extreme frustration. Just before he _finally_ engulfed Draco completely, he looked up, violet eyes shadowed, and murmured – "Just imagine what a soft, sweet girl's mouth would do to you…"

It wasn't like Draco didn't know what that was like. And yet with Blaise's demanding mouth urgently at work, the contrast swept over him, jarringly, and with a final frantic groan, he found relief.

* * *

"_I love you so, Joshua…"_

"_I know, my love. You are my world, my life…Your body, my temple." Joshua flicked an expert finger over one of the rosy pink nipples of Hildegard's generous breasts. _

"_Oh! Joshua – should we really be doing this?" she asked, alarmed, but aroused._

"_We go to battle tomorrow, my love," he reminded her, and his faithful warrioress nodded._

"_Joshua… will we survive together?"_

"_Of course, my flower. Nothing could ever come between us! You will battle at my side, and we will guard each other well and return to this place, triumphant, tomorrow night." Hildegard's brawny lover crooned in her ear, and Hildegard swooned happily, then set upon unlacing his toga._

Ginny grimaced at the book she was reading, forcing herself to put it down just at the good part, and pay attention to Neville. Contemplating couples who soldiered on through obstacles, faithfully, always loyal to each other even when captured and tortured by the evil General Achiatus, wasn't going to improve her mood.

Nor was Neville, it seemed. "They're all depressed, all the ones I've talked to. Everyone wishes Harry were here, you know?"

Ginny made a noncommittal noise.

"Luna says that with things the way they are now, we need to take up the mantle of Dumbledore's Army, and your brothers Fred and George."

"How," Ginny asked absently, "by cutting the ears off half the people on the Carrows' side?"

Neville blanched. "Merlin, I hope not. I am sorry about George –"

"I know, Neville, you told me," Ginny smiled, and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry to be spacing out on you. Alright, so we want to train people and keep everyone in touch, like in the DA – and wreck as many things of Snape and the Carrows as we can, right? We'll have to see what's available to smuggle in, I know they watch –"

"_Curfew! To bed with you all, immediately!"_ bellowed the deep, hoarse voice of Amycus Carrow outside the portrait-hole, and they flinched.

Neville mouthed, "Tomorrow?"

"Can't – Quidditch tryouts tomorrow, practice all Sunday. Monday, after class?"

He nodded. "Alright. Room of Requirement," and they bolted out of the Gryffindor Common Room into their separate dormitories.

* * *

Silky smooth wood, like butter. Echoing, empty air. Deep, peaceful green turf. Wide, colorful banners snapping in a perfect breeze. Steel grey clouds wrapping over the top of the field like a quilt. Ginny mounted her broom – Ron's old one, his present for becoming Prefect – and bolted towards the sky, biting her lip to keep from hollering or whooping.

Ritchie, Jimmy, and Demelza swooped up to join her. Angelina's very athletic sister Erin, Lavender, who'd apparently spent enough time watching Ron Keep that she'd picked up some tricks, and their new second-year Seeker, Nicholas, followed suit timidly, and so she had to break off her reverent meditative state and act like a real bloody Captain. "Alright now," she barked, "flying drills, everyone!"

* * *

She put her team through their paces. For possibly his first time in years of spying on Gryffindor practices, Draco's mind was not automatically calculating Slytherin's odds against this year's incarnation of their rivals. _Though they _do_ look like they'll be quite formidable,_ the part of his brain still able to contemplate sports pointed out.

The rest of his mind was on her expression as she'd taken flight. There really _was_ something entrancing about her face, he had to admit. First, on the train, when she wore that rather foreign look of restlessness even in sleep. Now, it was the stunning familiarity of the look on her face that struck him. The perfect joy of flying – she had to be feeling the same exact thing he felt when he got on his broom, to have that profoundly happy expression. He watched the figure she cut in the sky in peace for a few minutes before going to find Blaise.

* * *

"Really?" his prat of a boyfriend asked keenly, giving Draco a sharp look. "You're serious? What changed your mind?"

"She's a good flyer," he said tersely, with a moody pout.

Blaise rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, "That's what I get for dating a Quidditch-mad loon, I guess." Then he brightened. "So seriously? You're ok with me approaching her, asking her out?"

Draco grunted in a way meant to suggest 'yes.'

"_Excellent,_" Blaise hooted, "I'll start on that right away. And when I get her out on a date, you'll come along and do your charming rich bastard thing, and between that and my charming I'm-so-cute-and-funny thing, we'll just charm the knickers right off her…"

"I only agreed to go on a date with her, mind you – I'm still reserving judgment on the whole 'sex with a Weasley' thing. And I'm certainly not proposing we knock her up and move off with her to a chateau in France, so just calm down, will you?" Draco said crossly, more than a bit uncomfortable.

"No one's knocking anyone up – this whole castle's got contraceptive charms woven into it. Even if the current administration is prudish, the Founders knew what would happen if they put all the magical teenagers in Britain together."

Completely derailed from the topic at hand, Draco gaped at Blaise. "No way!"

"You honestly didn't know?" Blaise asked gleefully. "Though of course they don't quite advertize it…" he added fairly, so Draco wouldn't feel as bad.

Draco was practically inconsolable, though: "You mean – all this time – I've been using rubbers for _no good reason_?!"

Blaise took one look at Draco's anguished expression and started howling with laughter.

_

* * *

_

A.N. - _Since I'm going to have dubious internet connections after tomorrow night, I wanted to get this out to all you wonderful people who've been egging me on! After the hideous torments of FFN's doc editing though, I think I'm going to welcome a break from teh internets. (BUT, never fear, I'll still be writing, with or without internet connections!)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_From Blaise Zabini's daily planner:_

_tell house-elves there better be cinnamon rolls on the breakfast table, or they're toast.  
__make it clear to first years that waking me up before ten is a criminal offense, I don't bloody care if they're on fire. They can get Snape or Slughorn.  
__get Ginny Weasley to say yes to a date._

* * *

Alecto – _Professor Carrow,_ she reminded herself, _mustn't ever slip up there,_ - was in rare form that Monday afternoon, ranting until she was nearly foaming at the mouth, so Ginny had to race through the halls to the seventh floor and Barnaby the Barmy's portrait – Neville had already been waiting at least ten minutes.

She bounced around corners, even though she knew it was an unhealthy tactic in a crowded school full of awkward adolescents. But when she finally did run into someone, it wasn't because of his klutziness, or hers – it was because Blaise Zabini gracefully swooped in to plant himself in her way at the very last second, so that there was nothing she could do to avoid running right into them, so that they both toppled to the floor.

Stunned, she lay there, sprawled, for a few moments. Then, an inch from her face, piercing blue eyes opened, blinked at her, and Zabini murmured, "Hello, kitten."

That was when she scrambled to detangle her limbs from his, backing away in shock. He just lolled there, reclining in the middle of the corridor, chuckling to himself. She growled, her exasperation reaching the breaking point, and snapping. "Do you _mind_?" she demanded.

"That you were on top of me? Not a bit. That you got up? Quite." He sat up, hopping easily back to his feet and grinning. "If it's that you want somewhere more private, though, I can understand that – we can work out somewhere, I'm sure."

Totally pole-axed, Ginny could think of literally not one word that would serve as a reply to this unexpected, terrifying turn of events. So she drew her wand, and with that sense of security in her hand, stomped on his foot, hard.

"_MotherFU-_" he hissed, swallowing hard to hold back the rest of his expletive. But an instant later he straightened back up and had an all-the-more frightening gleam of interest in his eyes.

"I've got somewhere to be," Ginny blurted into the silence as he eyed her.

He gave her a cocky wink. "Alright, another time, then."

* * *

Neville wasn't mad at her for keeping him waiting, as it turned out – he and Luna were looking very cozy, and by the time she showed up, they'd already established a plan of action for the next few weeks. "We need quite a few things for what we've got in mind, though," Neville said, looking at Ginny expectantly. She returned his look with a blank one of her own. "We've both got detention on the first Hogsmeade weekend," he elaborated, and Luna produced a scroll with a list.

Taken aback a bit, Gin accepted the piece of parchment, looking it over briefly. It all made perfect sense, although what all the art supplies were for she wasn't sure, but she needed more, herself, anyway, now that she'd finally perfected the design Zabini's arse had kept interrupting a few days before. _Arse, indeed_.

"A file?" she asked, puzzled. She vaguely remembered it as the sort of metal wand that Martin the Mad Muggle used in his various adventures, in her brothers' comics.

Neville laughed at her 'what-the-hell' expression. "That's what I said, but we were talking contingencies – like what if your broom is confiscated? Then we'd have no emergency escape."

Ginny, caught between consternation at the thought of not being able to fly, and indignation that Neville considered her precious Cleansweep Eleven as nothing more than an 'emergency escape,' said nothing, and Neville charged on in his explanation.

"That's when Luna explained about 'files.' I totally didn't understand how someone's paper records could cut chains but I guess Muggles just like using confusing words. Anyway, that's what it does – cuts through chains practically like magic would. Crazy, isn't it?"

"Right," Ginny responded faintly, skimming the rest of the list. She looked up at Neville again – she was just about to ask how she was supposed to purchase his rather extravagant list of shopping, by stealing? – but he was holding out a sock of coins. "I've been saving my pocket money all summer," he said in a noble, self-sacrificing way. Taking the sock, and hefting it, Ginny marveled at just how much pocket money he got, but saying nothing, tucked the sock and list into her satchel.

"Anything else you need of me?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, and Neville and Luna exchanged thoughtful looks.

"No, I think that's it," Luna said blithely.

Gin back a sarcastic reply, telling herself she was just out of sorts because of stupid fucking Zabini, and said goodbye to her friends perfectly civilly, before heading down to dinner.

* * *

Time went sweeping on its mostly mundane course. Quidditch practice, classes, meals, studying, watching Luna and Neville awkwardly flirt – and as much as possible, ducking Blaise Zabini's attempts to flirt with her. While he made _her_ feel terrifically awkward, judging by the beaming smile on his face every time he saw her, Blaise himself was enjoying it all thoroughly.

"Ginny! Looking good today!" she heard behind her in the halls as she went to breakfast, between classes, even coming back from Quidditch.

That time, she spun around, breaking her self-imposed rule to ignore his asinine comments. "Zabini. For the love of all things magic, I'm wearing the crappiest clothes I own, I reek, and I'm covered in sweat."

He shrugged. "Some people, I know, find the athletic look quite hot." Beside him, the other Slytherin – crap, Malfoy, how had she missed _him_? – choked slightly. Disturbed by his friend's flirting? "And anyway, seeing you mussed and sweaty only makes me think of things we could do together that would get you that way."

She growled a bit. "Surely there's another girl around here that would appreciate your lines, Zabini." Malfoy quirked a sarcastic eyebrow at that, elbowing Blaise. "You could try them on your very pretty friend, here, say." She nodded at Malfoy.

It was Blaise's turn to choke. "Well, you have a point, I could…" he said, grinning merrily.

She huffed. Did nothing she said bother this prat? "Aw, struck wordless by his feminine charms? Here, I'll help you dredge up some compliments. You could try telling him his hair is as fine as silk, the color of gold. Or that his eyes are as 'rapturous as the summer skies,' or that his…" she faltered half a second, running out of ideas. She had to branch out to extremes. "Or that his body is like a Greek deity's?"

Her mind was starting to kick and scream now, trying to get her mouth's attention. _Idiot idiot idiot_, she berated herself, _complimenting Malfoy is hardly worth scoring points off Zabini! Even if it was funny to call him a girl…_

But both boys were regarding her amusedly now. She needed an excuse to get the hell out of here without seeming to bolt like a scared rabbit. So she flipped her hair at them both, and strutting away as if she were wearing a cocktail dress and not Muggle track pants, called back over her shoulder to them, "But I'm off to freshen up now, so I'll see you ladies around."

_Weak, very weak,_ her sensible side criticized harshly. As she rounded the corner, she heard laughter, and Malfoy saying, "Mate, I'm thinking she doesn't like you too much!"

* * *

Blaise shook himself. "Doesn't like me too much?" he repeated, slinging an arm around his boyfriend's waist. "Huh. She'll get over that, and boy, it'll be worth the work. Did you see that sexy strut of hers? Little spitfire," he murmured fondly. Draco snorted his skepticism. "Ah, she just needs to get used to me," Blaise argued.

"You're quite a lot to get used to," Draco muttered, as they started stalking back to the dungeons.

"But she was quite complimentary to _you_," Blaise pointed out, ignoring Draco's comment.

"If you can call it that," Draco said, shrugging.

Blaise threaded his hand in Draco's hair. "She noticed your body, your eyes, your hair – it's only a matter of time before she realizes she wants to press that body against yours, stare into those eyes, and wrap her hands in that hair as you take her, and I take you…"

Under his hand, Blaise felt Draco shiver. "We have a Prefect meeting now, you horrid tease."

"I know – bastard, aren't I?" Blaise chirped, pleased with himself. "And you can spend the whole meeting thinking of things you want to do to me after we get back to the dorms, alright?"

"Tie your sorry self down and show you why you shouldn't _do_ things like that to a guy…" was Draco's grumbling agreement.

His rascal of a boyfriend snickered helplessly. "Oh, no, not that! Anything but you fucking me hard and long and deep… oh, sounds so horrible!"

* * *

Ginny was trudging down from the Ancient Runes hallway to the corridor that went across the castle to the stair that would bring her to the Room of Requirement. Sometimes she couldn't help wishing the castle was a bit smaller. She wasted half her day trying to get places.

Then again, if it were any smaller, she would run into annoying people more often. Like Dennis Creevey – the boy lacked all the winsome charm of his older brother – or the second-year Hufflepuffs, who now hated her for 'bullying' Maria Terrapin on the train – or, Merlin forbid, damn Slytherins. Though she didn't know if it would _ever_ be possible to avoid Zabini no matter how big the castle was.

As if on cue, she saw a delectably unforgettable arse waving about in the air, its owner with his head under an oak table. She couldn't resist trying – "Zabini!" she called, and sure enough came a _thunk!_ and an astonishingly foul curse, as, startled by her, he cracked his head, hard. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" she enquired.

He backed slowly, cautiously out from the table – the result of which was, his arse was waggling at her in all its well-toned glory. She seethed a bit.

Zabini straightened, casual as always. "He-_llo_, lovely. Sorry about the language, my head had a bit of a disagreement with the blasted table."

"Lose something?" she asked offhandedly.

"Filch's keys," he said easily. "If you find them, I _would_ appreciate you letting me know."

She snorted. "And miss the sight of Filch hanging you from the ceiling by your wrists? Not a chance."

He pouted, adorable but obnoxious. "And what brought you by for this fortuitous meeting?"

She judged Zabini to be fairly lax – if he took her reply wrong, she could just laugh it off as a joke: "Oh, you know," Gin said carelessly, "I'm going off to start an uprising against your lot."

He arched a thin black eyebrow. "My lot – what, me and the people who've sampled the pleasures of my bed? I wasn't really aware I had a 'lot,' really…"

"No, Snape and the Carrows and the Ministry and the Dark Lord," she said, rolling her eyes that he would be so thick, as the Slytherin Head Boy, as to not realize who "his lot" was.

Zabini snorted, eyes glinting in amusement. "Aw, that's cute." He reached out, patting her on the shoulder. "You be careful, now!"

And with that he strode off, leaving Ginny staring, jaw dropped, at his perfectly formed arse. She was really starting to think he was all too aware of how magnificent a butt he had, and she really wished she knew who had told him so, so that she could hex them.

Pushing ponderings of Slytherins' rears out of her head, she went to meet up with Luna and Neville. They were full of ideas, as usual – ideas that were grandiose, generally ended with the three of them taking back the school, and couldn't possibly be put into practice until Ginny got them the items on their Hogsmeade shopping list on the trip next weekend. Still, it was a relief to get together with her friends and peaceably abuse the Hogwarts administration for a while.

That was when she remembered what Zabini had said about Filch's keys. She relayed that intelligence to her friends – finally, something they could _do_! They bee-lined down to the hallway Blaise had been searching, planning on spreading out from there.

Forty-five minutes of fruitless hunting later, Gin had cause to regret mentioning it to zealous Neville. She checked behind another of the endless suits of armor, behind a column bearing a bust of Xavier the Hungarian, and under the trailing edges of several wall-hangings and tapestries. She really began to get an appreciation for how bloody big the place was – for once, she regarded Hermione's whole SPEW idea with something besides skepticism, as she realized how fortunate she was, that house elves had kept all the places she searched dust-free.

It seemed like another ten years before Luna came hurtling around the corner, excited – "Found them!"

Naturally, that was what brought Amycus Carrow down on them. Luna, at least, had the sense to stash the key-ring in her book bag. That didn't save them from being assigned detentions, though – Ginny's first of the semester. All in a good cause, she supposed.

* * *

"Oi, Head Boy," Ginny called when he caught up with her the next day. Zabini looked a bit startled that she addressed him right off the bat, rather than attempting to ignore him for the first few minutes of him tailing her down to the Great Hall. She waggled the key ring which Neville had happily duplicated the night before when they got back to Gryffindor. "Might you want these?"

"OH! You are a saint among women. An absolute divine blessing. The pride of your fair sex," Zabini babbled in his typically overwrought way. He seemed half afraid she was joking, and plucked the keys from her hand in a rush. His fingernails, she noted, were curiously long. "I owe you a boon, now, sweet Ginevra."

She rolled her eyes. "I'd rather you didn't, thanks."

"No – I insist."

She sighed – she should have realized he'd be unreasonable about it. "I suppose you won't accept leaving me alone as the boon…" she asked regretfully.

"That would hardly let me show my gratitude… I know!" She eyed him warily, knowing by now that a bright idea of his boded ill. "I'll be your date for the coming Hogsmeade weekend."

"Hah!" she laughed, shortly. "Oh, no you won't." Truthfully it was a nice change to shoot him down for something realistic and tangible, something other than his ridiculous suggestions involving himself naked and covered in sundae toppings.

"I know your friends are in detention. It would be a crime to let you suffer alone without them… wandering Hogsmeade all forlorn…"

"Stalker," she shot back.

Defending himself, he pointed out, "No – Head Boy. I'm in charge of prefects, and therefore of the list for detentions. Neville's on his way to setting a record, you know," he added conversationally.

She rolled her eyes and just muttered, "Boys."

He tried to sling an arm over her shoulder, which she batted away without half a thought. "Boys," he agreed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "They're such a pain. You should go for men, instead."

She was feeling anxious with him looming at her side, all tall and dark and Slytherin. She ducked away towards a side passage, with a cool, "Right – tell me if you see one!"

* * *

He spent the next few days trying to frame the question of accompanying her to Hogsmeade in various ways. A dove brought her a note at the breakfast table, one morning, while the next day's tactics consisted of sneaking up behind her and whispering sexily, "C'mon, you know you want me all to yourself for a day…"

It was, Ginny told Luna, a damn shame that a whisper that sexy belonged to a Slytherin.

Finally, when she was exhausted, having just taken a draining Transfiguration test, and had been up all night before studying, he cornered her. "Ginny! Hey! I was just telling Draco here how exciting a date with you will be."

If it had been anyone but her, it would have been _so_ amusing, his charming, affable stubbornness. But at this point, she really wanted to scream.

"Too bad I'm going to deprive you of that date," she snapped.

"The only way you could deprive me would be if you told me you were going to, I don't know, spend the whole day rendezvousing with Potter or some mad thing like that. Then I'd be obliged to leave you alone, and go off and mend my broken heart..." He gave her a mournful look that Ginny, seeing red, didn't even notice.

It had never even occurred to, till Zabini said it, her that her ex, her best friend, and her brother, could have, if they wanted, tried to rendezvous with her. She was ready to spit nails. "Fuck you and your broken heart, Zabini. How about I go with your best mate, here," she waved in a vague, furious way at Malfoy, " – would that, at least, get the point across that I would rather go with absolutely anyone who's NOT YOU?!"

He and Malfoy exchanged studiously blank looks. The closest she could come to pinning down any emotion in their attitudes was faint surprise – and no wonder, a Weasley asking out a Malfoy? And yet, Ginny didn't regret her impetuous words – a blow-off from Malfoy wasn't anything to wound her pride.

"All right," Malfoy said in a puzzled sort of way, "I'll go with you."

She blinked a few times.

He gave her that smarmy grin he was so good at. "Meet you in the Entrance Hall at ten, okay?"

She nodded slowly, so as to make sure that her head was still screwed on straight, the world still turning on its axis.

He nodded back courteously, still with a faint smile playing across those aristocratic lips, and he and Zabini walked off, Zabini still in shell-shocked silence.

Ginny struggled to twist that exchange, gone so hideously wrong, into something she could cling to as consolation, and came up with only, '_Well, that ought to put Zabini through the bloody wringer – and Merlin, at least there's not a chance of _Malfoy _coming off all obsessive and obnoxious like Zabini has been_.' She fingered her wand, memories of her fourth year rising in her mind. _'Besides, there's always my bat-bogey hex!'_

_

* * *

_

A.N. - ACK! I'm so sorry, I've been trying to post this since Sunday, but first my computer wasn't working, then FF wasn't working, then my internet wasn't working... Then I got all three together and working but didn't have the document. ARGH. Well - HOPE YOU ENJOY!! And yes, the next chapter is Ginny and Draco's date. Yes, it's going to be freaking fantastic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Ginny's note to self:_

_Things to buy at Hogsmeade –  
__latest romance novel  
__fresh bag of 'Owl Droppings' sweets  
__food for Arnold  
__supplies for newest Weasley's Gifts designs  
__Neville's shopping list: spray paint, file, Security Snappers, decoy detonators, a case of Skiving Snackboxes, IncarcerTraps, and a charmed carry-all.  
__new panties_

* * *

Her mood was hellish the next few days. Immediately after that disaster of a conversation, she walked into a leering Filch, who informed her that her detention would be served next week after the Quidditch match, cleaning the stands. "But that's not fair," she'd complained, for all the good it did with Filch, "I'm _in_ the Quidditch match."

His grin grew broader, and he pointed out, "At least you'll already be all mucky and filthy!" _And sore, and aching, and exhausted,_ she lamented.

Then, she spent the rest of her spare time between then and Saturday wrestling with the most important question: How in hell did one prepare for a date with a Malfoy? Ginny's instincts warred – dress down to emphasize how vastly unimpressed she was with the brat? Or take great pains with her looks so as not to draw any teasing?

In the end, she swallowed her pride and cast about for a female friend to get advice from. Felicitously, it was Luna who was free the night before the Hogsmeade trip, when Ginny finally caved. While wildly inappropriate in the sensible things Hermione was always great for, and certainly too much a Dumbledore's Army crusader for Ginny to confess who she was trying to impress, Luna's unique sense of… 'fashion'… was surprisingly well-suited to Ginny's situation.

* * *

So it was that at 9:53, after carefully brushing and restyling her hair for the third time to look carelessly casual, Ginny strode down from Gryffindor tower in a flouncy white blouse, and a informal black skirt that sported giant red blossoms printed all over it. Luna's notion of formalwear turned out, unsurprisingly, to be rather relaxed by normal standards, while still being both unconventional and rather nice. Amazingly enough, the blossoms on the skirt were the exact shade of Ginny's hair – for the first time she could remember, she was wearing something red that didn't clash in the slightest.

"Good morning, Ginevra" Malfoy said stuffily when she descended the stairs into the Entrance Hall. He was wearing slacks – had the boy ever tried on a pair of blue jeans? – and a sharp shirt, hair slicked back in a way that was both attractive and pretentious. Ginny disliked both aspects of it. But she did appreciate his up-and-down gaze. "You look different," he said, and the sincerity of his tone let her know she'd struck the perfect balance – looking nice, without seeming like she was trying to show off for _him_.

Which she _of course_ wasn't…

* * *

Malfoy was being the quintessence of chivalry. It made Ginny suspicious as hell. In fact, as he carefully guided her around another patch in the Hogsmeade Road of wet-looking dirt, on the off chance it might prove to be mud, her suspicion hardened into certainty.

"Seriously?!" she challenged him.

"Sorry, beg pardon?" he asked in a tone of confusion.

She didn't trust her date for an instant. "Stop with the over-the-top politeness. You're only doing it to be annoying."

He seemed to reflect for a moment. "Hmm. You're right. I was being patronizing." And he continued on as he had been, with a formal grip on her arm and eyes trained on the ground to ensure his companion would trip over not even a stray stone, all the while deftly asking her pointed questions about classes that she couldn't _not_ answer.

Just as they were approaching Hogsmeade Village, and Ginny was mulling the endless variation of ways in which she could ask 'why the hell are you here with me?' –

_Thud!_

"FUCKITALL!" Blaise dropped out of a tree into their path, his robes pulling off the dramatic swish he was no doubt aiming for, but the rest of him landing heavily and painfully before an astonished Ginevra and a wide-eyed Draco.

"Hello – darlings," he wheezed. The way he sounded as though he were about to die right then and there at their feet kept Ginny's mind preoccupied enough that it took a double-take for her to realize:

"Darlings?" she murmured to Draco, assuming that her date was still at her side, and as boggled as she was by the plural.

But Draco was stepping up to give Blaise a chummy clap on the back. "Right – shall we go? Darlings?" He rolled the endearment on his tongue insufferably.

Ginny was furiously indignant. She'd expected, when Blaise fell out of the tree, an impassioned speech beseeching her not to leave him for his best friend. But the bastard was obviously playing a deeper game.

Fuck if he was going to ruin her date, though. She strode up between the boys, seizing Draco's arm and steering him along the road again as if she were Pansy Parkinson at the Yule Ball. Draco, perhaps thinking of the same comparison, gave her an amused smile. It was a nice look on him. At least if she was going to spend the day with a prat, he could be a nice-looking one.

That was when the other prat fell in companionably beside her, squashing her between himself and Draco so tightly that their elbows knocked at every stride. And just when she was about to snap at him for horning in on her date, he said, beaming widely in his mad-cap way, "Now I'm certainly not here to mess you about, Gin. I know you're on a date, and knowing Draco, he's dead-set on showing you a good time."

Part of Ginny's brain, the part that wasn't wailing in confusion and shock at how events lately were getting so out of control, noted that it was the first time all year Blaise said something that could have had a double meaning, without lacing his words with innuendo.

Head still spinning in confusion, she resigned herself to walking wordlessly between the two boys the rest of the way to Hogsmeade. Then she sensed movement in the area of her bum, and nearly tripped the direct Weasley-temper-to-mouth trigger, ready to hotly protest against whichever one was being so bold. Just as quickly, words failed her, when she realized, firstly, that both of them were shifting their arms, and that secondly, neither had laid a hand on her arse.

Dragging her feet ever so slightly, she felt behind her two wrists, one on either side of her hips, reaching beyond her. They were… grabbing each other's arses. "Ooh, that pinched," Draco chimed in as if on cue, wriggling and laughing. Blaise chuckled, and they both looked at Ginny to see her reaction.

Ginny's reaction could best be summed up as 'what-fucking-ever.' It was a sunny but cold day, and if the two bastards wanted to continue walking in lock-step with her, she'd deal with it – they cut down the wind nicely. It was infuriating to have her date and her stalker flirting over her head with each other, though – whether this was devised by Draco as a way to torment her via their date, or whether Blaise was using him as a confederate in his endless schemes to make it with her, she didn't know, but either option left her as the victim and that pissed Ginny Weasley off. The two bastards deserved each other, she decided, and if they continued to hit on each other she was abandoning them both.

And yet, surprisingly, when they reached Hogsmeade they both turned to her. "I'd hoped to take you by Talisman's," Draco said leadingly, waving a hand vaguely in that direction.

"Ugh – really? I don't think much of your taste, then, wanting to go to an old-lady's clothes store on our date," Ginny replied automatically.

His mouth quirked. "Yes, I can see how someone like you wouldn't like a store like that." Her face must have changed color faster than a Rainbow Rat's. "Good grief, Weas – Ginny. That's not what I meant in the slightest," he told her in a tired tone before she could choke out word one of her indignation at his slight on her family. "It was bloody irony, girl. You're wearing Talisman's signature blouse. Which, I might add, looks decidedly non-old-lady-like on you." He indicated her cleavage with a vague wave of his hand.

Ginny had, in fact, never been in Talisman's, per se. She had only heard Fleur talk condescendingly about it over the summer. "Oh," she said dumbly. Scrambling to recover, she shot back desperately – "Well, I have things to buy – a shopping list. So I don't think we have time for that stop."

"Very well," said Draco, unfazed. Blaise just lolled against a streetlamp, continuing to grin like a loon. "Where to first, Ginny?"

She wished he would stop using her name. It sounded too odd coming out of that mouth. She wished she would stop paying close attention to Draco Malfoy's mouth, as well. She was just grateful that Slytherin prefects, no matter the kind of mouth they had, could _never_ be delectably kissable. No, not one bit. _Does that mean Head Boys are alright, then?_ the most unruly, under-snogged part of her mind speculated.

Blaise gave her a suave grin, expectant, and for a horrified second she thought she'd spoken aloud – till she remembered they were still waiting for her decision about where to shop.

"Bowilligan's," she said decisively, and as they started ambling that way, she blinked, remembering why exactly the book store was at the top of her to-do list, and wondering how she kept putting herself in the way of serious teasing from these two obnoxious Slytherins.

* * *

_The Chieftan's Lover_ was one in a series of romances about barbarian tribal leaders, and the women they loved. Like all good romance books with sequels, it ended in a horrible cliff-hanger, so Ginny was wild to read the next in sequence, _Wife to a Druid_. Ginny tried alternately ducking down aisles unexpectedly, shuffling away when the boys stopped to look at a book, and reading for five minutes out of _A Study of the Properties of Fruit_, a rather queer potions manual, in hopes they would grow bored and wander off. But no matter what she did she was stuck with one tall black-haired and one short blonde-haired shadow. Finally, after they'd circled the shop a few times, Draco asked coolly, "Are you looking for something in particular? Can we help you find it?"

She looked him up and down a moment – so perfectly coifed and composed – and allowed herself a small, probably evil, grin. "The author's name is 'Hieberus,' Janet Hieberus." she told him, and lounged against a display case as he started looking. Blaise hung around by her elbow, for once watching Draco walk off rather than taking the chance to stare at her in his disquieting way.

It was only a matter of moments before Draco returned, several novels in hand and his eyebrows raised till they were in danger of shooting off his face.

"Good Lord, Ginny," he choked out, and handed the stack to her hastily. "I hope that's what you wanted. I don't know if I can go back among all that pap."

To her utter astonishment and discomfort, Blaise leapt to her defense. Well, alright, Blaise playing gallant knight and defending her tastes – nothing remarkable there. But – "Draco, you've clearly never read these books."

"Clearly," the blonde said dryly.

"They're very sexy stuff. One hell of an enjoyable read. Yes, alright, they're trite and the writing's awful. But –" he wriggled a bit, delightedly, "-can Hieberus ever write a sex scene!"

Ginny gaped at him as he swiped the books our of her hands, and stalked up to the counter, paying for the whole lot of them with the pronouncement that he'd buy them, but let Ginny read them first, and reread them whenever she liked. Her sputtering protests went right over his head, and with a bag-laden Blaise leading the way, Draco swept her out of the shop and back into the blinding mid-day sun of Hogsmeade's high street.

She was still in shock, barely able to recall and convey to them that the next stop was Honeydukes. It wasn't that Blaise had just bought three Galleons of romance novels for her – it was his enthusiasm for the books. Ginny had, since being introduced by Fleur to the genre at the beginning of last summer, devoured a wide range of romance novels, from the truly ridiculous – Healer-patient stories, lost lovers stricken with amnesia and living with Muggles – to the unfortunately ambitious – the ones that fancied themselves real books and were chock full of plot, only a few 'good bits.' Hieberus was an author she'd settled on for, well, all the reasons Blaise had just described. The scenes of passion were divine, and Ginny had spent many steamy hours curled up deep under her covers with the books. The idea that Blaise might have done the same unmentionable things she did after a particularly torrid chapter – sternly, she ordered her brain to stop trying to visualize that, because the more logical side of her was recalling all the language typical of Hieberus's love scenes. There was always much "worshiping of his rod of manhood," or "being gloriously impaled upon his throbbing shaft" – in short, the books were quite phallic, and for Blaise to actually get off on that kind of thing…

Ginny pondered his literary tastes, pondered the way he groped Draco earlier, and pondered his completely straightforward interest in being intimate with her, and despaired of understanding the mad, confused boy. Then she smelled chocolate.

* * *

"_Honeydukes,_" Draco's date whispered reverently, shaking him off with scarcely half a thought, shoving right past Blaise as he tried to hold the door open for her, and bee-lining to the counter laden with precious, precious chocolates.

Nearly before he could blink, she'd eaten a handful of the caramel squares out on a tray as free samples. The village lad behind the counter, seeing her hand whip back out for the rest of them, started to object – "Oi!" Then the red hair registered in his mind, and eyes wide with recognition, he stammered, "Er, I m-mean, d-d-d'you want some more?"

"_Please,_" she said, and her desperately wanton tone was instilling some very hedonistic thoughts in Draco's brain as she bit into each chocolate with wild abandon – he felt himself beginning to stir, and tried to fight back with iron control. Dammit, there were hundreds of his fellow students probably just in this shop alone, and it had been years since he'd suffered the embarrassment of a public hard-on.

That was when, eyes glowing, she licked a flake of chocolate from the corner of her mouth, little pink tongue, full pink lips, a pink flush across her freckled cheeks as she lost herself in rapture, and Draco felt himself twitch, stiff with interest.

He had been jealous, it was true, when Blaise fell under the girl's spell. Not that he'd even admitted as much to himself. It was only now, when all his doubts fell away, that he could acknowledge how anxious about Blaise's affection this whole Ginny thing had made him. But after a sight like that – his feelings were completely in sympathy with Blaise's.

Curse the girl. Curse Blaise. Now, if he didn't have them both, Draco felt he might just explode.

* * *

When her feeding frenzy calmed, Ginny took a deep breath, and shivered a bit, an after-effect of the heaps of sugar she'd just eaten. Blaise and Draco were staring at her with darkened eyes and jaws agape.

If there was anything in the world Ginny was utterly unself-conscious about, it was her passion for chocolate. "Right – well, I'm just going to get a few bags of Owl Droppings." She bustled purposefully towards the wall of the shop where they could be found. In truth, she'd only planned on buying one bag, when she'd budgeted her shopping trip last week. But since Blaise had bought the book she'd wanted –and then some – she could afford another bag or two of the white-and-dark chocolate balls.

Her determined stride was broken as they passed a new display case – under glass lay row after row of the largest, most delectable-looking truffles. Ginny had to blink, hard, to break the hold the shelves of chocolates seemed to have over her – in her trance, she'd walked right up to the counter, practically about to press her nose up against it like a sticky little frogspawn. Well, now she did feel a little foolish. But – chocolate – who could blame her?

The bags of Owl Droppings selected and paid for, Ginny strolled happily into the street – only belatedly realizing she was somewhat lacking in company. "Where's my date gone, now?" she huffed to Blaise. He shrugged, the entirely too innocent look on his face making her ever more antsy with suspicion.

"Kick back," he invited, taking his own advice and settling down onto the ledge of marble around the town fountain. Swinging his legs up, crossed, to stretch out along the length of the lip of the fountain, and lounging back, hands bracing himself so he could half-recline in the sun, he assured her, "He'll turn up."

Gingerly, she took a seat – by his feet, since she still didn't trust his hands anywhere near her bum. Of course, that meant to talk to him, she had to gaze up along his stretched out body. And if she was stuck waiting for her date, she really _ought_ to talk to him.

"So – why did you wind up Head Boy?" she asked, curious. He hadn't been a prefect, after all.

"Eh – the one Snape had picked was Draco, but then there was a question about whether Draco would return to school or not. So, heavens forbid they have a non-Slytherin Head Boy leading the school."

"And then Draco did show up after all, so they just stuck him back in as a prefect?" she asked, and Blaise nodded. "Odd – I'd've thought he would kick up a fuss over that, losing out on the chance to rule the castle…"

Blaise shrugged elaborately, throwing back his head so his waves of short, thick black hair were ruffled by the wind. "He was just glad to be back at all."

Ginny, mouth dry from what she hoped was the noon sun, but feared might be the effect of Blaise's body on her, deemed it best not to push the point, because if he gave another shrug like that, so that she could see the ripples of his chest muscles and his arms and shoulders…

"Hey! Sorry about that," Draco said, coming over at a trot. He handed her a box. "Here, Ginevra. This is yours."

She opened the plain black box and blanched. After a stunned second, she croaked, "Oh, no it isn't."

"Oh, but it is, m'lady!" Draco insisted. "For crying out loud – I should know, having selected and purchased it specifically for you."

Firmly, she told him, "I can't possibly accept. I may not dine on bonbons and truffles all the time, but I know how much they cost – and I know what you'd expect in return." Sour thoughts of Dean, and the unseemly things he'd wanted her to do in return for his thoughtfulness, flickered in her mind. She turned, starting to stomp towards the store, all set to return them.

Just before she could get the lid back on, though, Blaise slithered a hand under her arm, brushing right past her chest, and snagged a truffle. She yelped – half in surprise, half in outrage – and whirled just in time to see him pop the whole thing into his mouth. He grinned broadly despite the sticky chocolate still smearing his lips and teeth. "Oops. Guess you can't return it now, can you? You'll just have to eat them," he said cheerfully in a thick voice, as he tried to talk around the mouthful.

"Nice thinking," Draco crowed in an undertone, grinning at Blaise gratefully, then at Ginny, victoriously. She seethed at them. Noting the dangerous signs of a Weasley temper, Draco in a rush added, "Hey, look, I'm sorry. It was rude of us to play a nasty trick on you like that – I just wanted you to accept the gift, since I hope you'll enjoy it. Can I buy you lunch to make it up to you? And honestly – no matter what I might _hope_ for, I expect nothing more in return than the pleasure of your company at lunch, really."

She gave him the most skeptical look she could muster, but knew that being a bitch to him purely based on pride and lousy memories of another boy was hardly fair. She put the lid back on the truffles, spelled the box to stay cool, and reluctantly slid it into her bag. "Thank you very much, then, for the truffles."

"Thank you for accepting them," he said in a sincere tone. "Now – lunch? How does the Niffler's Gold sound?"

She knew the café – it was a sunny yellow building up the road, and more importantly, while it had a reputation for excellent food, it also had a reputation for moderate prices. It seemed Draco really was trying to be genuinely thoughtful, not an ass. "You're going to insist, aren't you?" she asked wryly.

He just beamed, so with a shrug, she headed up the main street, the two boys still flanking her.

This became a problem when she realized that they were passing right by the store she needed to visit. She halted outside it, looking between the two boys uncertainly. "Um…"

"What?" asked Blaise in innocent bewilderment.

"I have some stuff I really need to get…" she said, praying she could get through the next few minutes without her face adopting a permanent shade of crimson.

Draco, who'd taken in the stores on either side of them in a quick glance, cottoned on. "You need to stop by Venus and Aphrodite's?" he asked perceptively.

She nodded, and caught her lip between her teeth before asking in a despairing tone, "I'm not going to be able to make you two wait out here on the pavement, am I?"

"While you go shopping for unmentionables? Not a chance!" Blaise laughed, dragging her in through the door.

It turned out to be not _quite_ as bad as she thought. They frowned a bit when she went straight to the displays of clearance-bin white cotton underpants, though. She found her size and simply grabbed a double handful.

"Err – rather than get scads of boring panties, why not get a few nicer ones?" Blaise asked, in what was for him a delicate, tactful way.

She glared at him. "Because your little Housemates have a nifty new trick, or hadn't you heard? You know, about how they've decided to vanish Gryffindors' panties at random in the corridors? I need lots of backup pairs for when one of your mates catches me," she said, faintly accusingly.

Draco grinned. "No you don't..."

Inwardly she started to groan. If they _both_ took to making non-stop lewd comments about how they wanted to get her naked, she would without a doubt go mad.

"…We told those guys to leave you alone."

That quelled her. "…Oh," she managed, the chivalry unsettling her. "Oh. Well, then we can just go eat…" she said vaguely, putting down the wads of cheap cotton and elastic.

"Oh, damn, but I haven't even had a chance to talk Draco into wearing these, yet!" complained Blaise, waving a pair of boxers in a silk, black and green plaid print. He grinned confidingly at Ginny. "Don't you think he'll look _delectable_ in them, the silk hugging his hips?..."

The suggestive wriggle of Blaise's eyebrows, aimed at her, was completely at odds with the topic under discussion, Draco's waist. Ginny really wished she knew what was going on here, because she wasn't sure her poor head could take much more of it.

"Can we just… go get lunch?" she asked faintly.

* * *

Ginny mutely accepted the fact that Draco held the café door for her, took her coat, and waited, standing, till she sat. She sipped quietly at water until the appetizer the ravenous Blaise had ordered arrived. Meekly she accepted the chicken finger he pressed into her hand, but turned it over a few times, studying it, rather than eating it. Finally, jabbing the hapless chicken tender in Draco's face, she said, "I want to know…"

"Yes?" he prompted courteously.

She frowned. "I want to know why you're here with me, and why he's here with you. Or with me. Or whoever he's with."

Draco opened his mouth to explain, but Ginny wasn't done "- And I want to know exactly what you two are after. And whether it's me, or each other."

"Well, can't it be all three?" he said in a reasonable tone, as Blaise, chin in hand, watched their conversation with glittering eyes.

"That's not an answer to my questions," she started to protest, then realized that, wait, if he was answering the last question only – _all three_ – and then, that would answer all the preceding questions, wouldn't it? "All three," she echoed, wanting to be sure she understood what he'd just said.

Blaise grinned. "Exactly." When she still just stared at him, he elaborated. "Both of us think that you are extremely intriguing."

"And between the both of you?" she countered, "What is going on there?"

Blaise's grin was wider, and more evil, as he answered, "Quite a bit."

At the same time, Draco jumped in: "Everything."

Ginny stared at them, then down at her hands. Then she ate the chicken finger.

After a moment, Blaise leaned in, asking in a low tone, "So?"

"So?" she repeated in a confused way. "Wait – you seriously expect some kind of reply? A yes-or-no?"

Draco pouted. "The way you say it, you make it sound like the only possible answer is 'no.'"

She gave him a single sharp, disbelieving look before settling broodingly over her cup of coffee, and silence reigned for another moment as the entrees were brought out and everyone tried their food.

All Ginny could think was, _And I'd thought to _embarrass_ them by insinuating they liked each other!_

When she'd gotten over her own sense of idiocy and made significant headway into her salad she laid down her fork. "So?"

Blaise grinned acknowledgement at the way she was trying to turn the tables: "So what?" he asked obligingly.

"So you two. How long's that been going on? I know last year I heard _nothing_ about who you were dating, Blaise, and Draco, I was under the impression that you were going to obediently marry Pansy the second you got out of school."

Blaise snorted at Draco, eyes dancing. "Hmm. I really _did_ save your bacon, didn't I, getting you out from under _his_ spell?"

"_Shut. Up._" Draco hissed icily, looking around the restaurant with a wary expression. Ginny blinked, not daring to comment on that odd bit of by-play, but eaten up by curiosity over it. His surveillance of their surroundings seemed to have put him at ease slightly, enough to offer a partial explanation. "Last year the plan was that I would marry Pug-inson." Ginny, unable to help herself, snickered. "Blaise came stumbling up to me in the middle of the summer and persuaded me to change my plans… you know how he is."

Solemnly, she nodded. "Indeed." Both boys chuckled at the heartfelt tone.

"Yeah, well, he swept me off to Tenerife – that's in the Canary Islands – and had his wicked way with me. So far I haven't been able to escape him." The outrageously fond smile he gave Blaise at that would have probably made her brother or his friends die of shock. Ginny mostly just felt unsettled to see that kind of emotion expressed by Draco. Possibly, too, a bit jealous, but that went wholly unacknowledged by her conscious mind.

They spent the rest of the meal detailing to her their supposed adventures at Blaise's villa. She wasn't sure she believed even half of them, but the boys _did_ make her laugh.

Draco took the check – Ginny didn't protest, since they all knew she couldn't pay and so the gesture would be hollow. She just thanked him quietly, the resentment only the tiniest grain in her voice.

They made a quick stop in the Hogsmeade outlet of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, Draco and Blaise studiously studying the ceiling in a bout of subtlety and tact as she purchased the more innocuous items, like Pygmy Puff food, and then, after a quick word with the clerk, was given a selection of boxes which she stuffed into the Poppins Bags, named for the invention of Madam Travers, the Victorian witch and author.

Afterwards they headed straight to the art supply store. Draco watched her select a metal file, his face expressing pure bafflement. Blaise, she suspected, knew what it was, and merely raised an eyebrow. They were both at a loss, though, as she selected lengths of wire, a few yards of various types of cloth and velvet, a selection of bells, ten kinds of lace, and an assortment of buttons and felt-tips. Draco just gave her a blank smile, obviously resolved not to ask. Blaise, unsurprisingly, was less restrained: "What the fuck do you need all that for?" he exclaimed, earning a look of intense dislike from the older woman at the register.

"Secrets, secrets are no fun, if you tell everyone," Ginny chanted in a light, merry tone, and thrust the parcels into Blaise's arms. "Here. You can carry these while I walk with my date."

"Ah, yes – I'm sure that a demonstration of my strength and muscles will be a nice bonus for you two on the walk back to the castle," he said with a cheeky grin, flexing as he hoisted the bundles and followed alongside them. They bantered all the way back to Hogwarts – which ended with Ginny feeling quite beleaguered, since whenever she was about to finally score a point against her impossibly polite, restrained date, his… boyfriend… would leap in and abuse them both roundly before settling back into his watchful, amused role as Ginny's parcel-toter.

* * *

Back in the Entrance Hall, she huffed, though smiling – "Well, I'm thoroughly sick of you both, so go off to your Dungeon to shag each other now and leave me alone."

"Oh, but fair lady – you have such a long walk up to your tower! We could hardly abandon you at the most challenging part of your noble quest." Draco's eyes were gleaming with mischief as he slipped her bag of shopping out of her hand, and took it in his instead. Blaise, with heroic and macho groans of effort, shifted the parcels he was carrying into one armful so his hand was free to seize hers as well.

"Sorry, love, you're going to get more sick of us before the day's over," Blaise told her merrily.

As much as their antics made her laugh, and allow them to walk her up the seven floors through the maze-like castle, each flight of stairs they climbed made her a tad more anxious, because they were following her right into Gryffindor territory.

What that said about them was interesting – what it would say about her, to her Housemates, if any should happen to be about, though, was something she was not at all interested in finding out. But when she climbed the last stair to the seventh floor, she heard a mutter, and looking to either side, saw two brunette boys in Ravenclaw colors.

"We'd leave you here, to keep you out of trouble, but you'd have to make three or four trips to shift all your stuff into the dorm," Blaise said, and the two of them towed a reluctant Ginny straight to the Fat Lady's portrait and looked at her expectantly. When she didn't utter the password right away, they reminded her, "We do know it ourselves, you know – we're just being polite, here."

With a frown, she barked, "Dulce et decorum est," and they clambered into the Common Room. Each of her companions were briefly seized by a fit of giggles, looking around the crimson room with its gold ornamentation, but they caught a glimpse of her face and sobered, following her to the foot of the girls' stairs and setting down her parcels.

"So – you know our passwords, and your robes can be charmed to look however you like. That's some interesting intelligence – I thank you," she said with a hint of triumph.

Draco rolled his eyes, and an obnoxious, knowing smile crossed Blaise's lips, as if to say, like he had before when she mentioned the DA's ongoing crusade, 'Isn't that cute?'

"Well, my fair one," Draco said, and she realized they still had her hands in theirs, "I suppose this is adieu." He kissed the back of her hand gallantly.

Blaise mimicked him – brushing his lips lingeringly against her skin, he murmured, "Take care, fairest of them all."

It was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes, as she reclaimed her hands and hoisted a few of the bags. "Right. You too." But the manners her mother had drilled her in pricked her: "Thank you for the chocolates and the lunch – and the whole date, Draco. Blaise, thanks for the books and the… interesting time."

"It's always interesting with me," Blaise assured her as Draco dragged him out of Gryffindor. "I'll give you a money-back guarantee on that!"

Then they were gone, and the headache they'd given her swamped her. "Interesting, indeed," she grumbled, and got to work shifting her purchases up to her room.

_

* * *

_

A.N. - I hope it was as 'interesting' as you all wanted! You guys are the best :-) Thanks for the reviews (keep them coming!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

It was Monday when Ginny finally overheard a Slytherin mention to one of his Housemates Blaise and Draco being 'together' – of course, being a Slytherin, he had a much stronger choice of words to describe it. He also seemed to characterize it as something very temporary. Although even Ginny could see how unalike and oddly matched the boys were, she hadn't gotten the impression during her weekend with them that they were merely hooking up.

Still, the main thing that ate at her was the fact that this was the first time she was hearing anything on their relationship in the first place. It would have been useful if the Hogwarts rumor mill had done its usual efficient job, so that she was warned in time for her date with Draco.

At least the rumor mill did its job most of the time, including Tuesday afternoon. Ginny was fresh out of Care of Magical Creatures class when Neville snagged her by the sleeve of her robe. "What is it?" she asked urgently – his face was drawn with concern.

"According to Laramie James, you've got two Slytherins on your tail," he told her anxiously.

"Oh," was all she said, already suspecting where this was going.

She clearly didn't seem panicked enough for Neville's tastes. "They say it's a pair of prefects, Ginny,"

Knowing it most certainly wasn't two prefects, she stifled a giggle. "Oh, I doubt it," she assured Neville, advising him, "You can't believe everything that you hear!" But she knew her inexplicable flippancy would hardly be healthy for Neville's nerves, so adopting a more serious expression she promised him she'd stay out of sight for the evening.

'_Now where would a Slytherin prefect and Head Boy never go?'_ she asked herself when she'd extracted herself from Neville's worried attentions.

Five minutes later, a slender cloaked figure slipped into the library, surveying the tables. Sighing in relief, Ginny slid her hood back, readjusted her bookbag, and crept through the stacks as innocuously and non-suspiciously as possible given her constant furtive surveillance of her fellow studiers. She relaxed as she saw largely blue-crested robes, with smatterings of yellow. Neither her House nor Slytherin's were represented in the library tonight.

She hunkered down in a distant corner, surrounded by shelves of Medieval Magical Jurisprudence Encyclopedias, volumes 1, Aab- through 111, Alz-. She was fairly sure no one had been back here _since_ medieval times, but it was extremely quiet (except when, every once in a while, the dust drove her into a fit of sneezing.)

* * *

Her tactic was extremely successful. Draco and Blaise, after prowling the castle till absurdly late, had to retire to their rooms. They could, at least, find creative outlets to slake their frustration. The only downside was the discovery the next day that even as high-necked as Hogwarts' robes were, their numerous bite marks and crimson-purple bruises were too numerous to easily conceal. Their embarrassed dismay – or rather, Draco's embarrassed dismay, and Blaise's solicitous sympathies, were allayed by a stroke of luck, Wednesday night, when one of their key non-Slytherin sources, a fellow prefect, came through for them, mentioning having seen 'the blood traitor' slip through the library about seven o'clock last night.

They gave him their insincere thanks, shared a very sincere eye-roll at the Hufflepuff's attempt to be ingratiating, using the language of the new regime, and proceeded to stalk their way through the Hogwarts library.

* * *

Ginny surveyed the parchment, satisfied. That was her Charms assignment for the week all written, and well-written it was, too. She'd get an O on that, for sure; now, maybe, she could get ahead in her Astronomy problem-sets.

"You look like the Kneazle who swallowed the Augury," a smooth voice crooned at her elbow. She yelped, narrowly missing her ink bottle as she jolted, startled. Livid, she immediately capped it, aghast that she'd nearly ruined the five-scroll-long assignment. The essay safe, she could turn her glare on Blaise and his boyfriend.

"You two look like little lost Crups," she hissed. "Why don't you get out of here before Madam Pince finds you and sends you off to the pound?"

Draco, lounging against a bookshelf, gave her a languid moment of mock applause for the barb – which only made her more anxious to be rid of the pair. The noise rang out far too clear in the dead silence of this corner of the library.

Blaise affected a sniffle. "But this little lost Crup just wants to be loved," he complained with a pitiful expression, nudging her shoulder with his nose as if he were, in fact, a small terrier. She groaned.

"And this Kneazle wants to be left alone, dammit," she muttered, glaring at the pair. "Get him to give you some affection," she suggested to Blaise, nodding at Draco.

Blaise's eyes took on a mad glint, and he started to speak, but Draco stepped forward and Blaise shut his mouth, a look of anticipation coming over his face.

Draco leaned in, both hands palms-down on the table, and murmured to her in a low tone, "You seem to like telling us to go off with each other, oh-fairest-of-them-all. Is there a reason behind that? Do you secretly like thinking about the two of us, naked, our bodies clashing? That double dosage of masculinity, sweat and skin and muscles, that could be yours?"

That hadn't been on her mind at all when she spoke, but damn if it wasn't now. She wondered if Blaise had been reading Hieberus to his boyfriend. At any rate, Blaise saw fit to add, "Draco has the most remarkably perfect cock, too."

Ginny let out a strangled, uncomfortable noise at the same time Draco gave an irritated sound of annoyance at his boyfriend's bluntness. Blaise teased him, of course – "What, are we being shy? Would it be better if I took the medical route? His _penis_ is quite divine." The force Blaise put behind that made the word echo, bouncing among the shelves, and Ginny's stomach dropped – she heard a creak a few aisles away.

"Blaise, Draco, I think we'd best –" she started to say, looking down at her scattered things on the desk and trying to collect them into a manageable jumble. She was stuffing the first handful into her bookbag when she looked up, saw no boys, and one very, very irate Madam Pince.

"_WHAT_," the woman hissed in an intimidating whisper, "are you doing back here? Why are you booming _obscenities_ in a library?"

Ginny gulped. "I…?" _I didn't do it? I'm innocent? The boys who are very plainly not in evidence were the ones making the racket?_ She ran through the possibilities, and admitted defeat. "I'm… sorry?" she tried lamely.

"Incorrigible teenager," sniffed Pince. "You're going to be sorry. I'm referring this to the Carrows, you mark my words. You'll have plenty of time to be sorry in detention. Now, remove yourself and that foul mouth from my library for the evening, _if you please_." She flounced away, but Ginny knew that if she didn't 'remove herself' as requested, the librarian would swoop back in on her in an instant.

Steaming, she crammed her things into her bag and stalked out.

The instant she emerged from the library, the thorns in her side cropped back up. "Hmm. Ginevra Weasley. Never would have taken you for such an incorrigible, foul-mouthed miscreant," Draco said with a sad shake of his head.

She whacked him with her bag, then turned and issued Blaise two smacks. "You horrible bastards."

"We're sorry, we're sorry!" Blaise exclaimed, hands out defensively. "We'll make it up to you!"

She growled. "You have yet to make anything up to me in a way that doesn't drive me MAD. So don't even try."

"I think this time, we really can make it good," Draco assured her. "How does getting you out of detention sound?"

She sneered. "I'm dubious of your powers, oh Prefect. And anyway, it's a detention you two earned, not me."

Blaise shrugged. "We could, I dunno, put each other into detentions," he offered. His standard wicked grin crept across his face. "In fact – Draco, for mocking poor Ginny, I sentence you to detention. Your punishment -"

"Don't," Ginny interrupted crossly. "I really don't need to hear about what you two will do to each other for detention."

Blaise beamed proudly. "Catches on fast, doesn't she?" he remarked to Draco, who nodded somberly. "Anyway," he continued hastily, seeing the thunderclouds of a temper tantrum in her face, "We'll, err, get on with things. Go take care of that detention for you, and whatnot."

"And get down to the hard work of punishing each other," Draco murmured for her ears only, as he followed Blaise, and she ground her teeth and tried unsuccessfully to banish the two prats from her thoughts.

* * *

Because her entire weekend was going to be taken up with her team's first Quidditch match, Ginny actually _did_ need to get ahead on that Astronomy problem set. Therefore, the next night found her in the same corner of the library – and fifteen minutes after she'd cracked her books, Blaise and Draco found her there as well. Ginny made a nearly inaudible noise of incredible frustration.

"There there, pet, what's wrong?"

"You two – in the library – _again_!" she ground out in disbelief that they'd rebounded so quickly from yesterday's disaster. She sure as hell hadn't, even if she was secretly a bit awestruck that she'd received no word so far about detention.

"Ugh, I know. In the library, _again_," Draco sighed, in complete sympathy. "It's killing us, it really is. All these… books, and… learning, going on… enough to make a man sick."

"_You_ should be perfectly fine, then," she said sweetly, and charged on, pleased with a point scored against Draco's ever-present masculine honor. "If you loathe this place so much, why in hell's name don't you LEAVE?" she hissed, making vague shooing motions.

Two pairs of hands snagged hers. "Yes, let's," Blaise said cheerfully.

"No! I – you two should, not me – was here first – hey! That's my stuff!" she complained, as they each secured her hands in one of theirs and started sweeping her things haphazardly into her bag.

"Come on now, you're going to get yourself caught by Pince if you don't hush and behave," Draco pointed out, and she went brick-red with impotent rage as they tugged her along.

Of course, the second they were free of the library, out in the hall, she was free to explode. "The HELL is your problem?! I can't get you to stop STALKING me, but you could at least have the decency to tamely follow along where _I_ go, rather than dictate the terms of your stalking to me, dragging me around, mucking about with my things-!" She tore her bag out of Blaise's hands, frantically retrieved her Charms essay, smoothed the creases marring it, and with a glower of distaste for them both, strode off back to the Tower.

The fact that they very easily could have followed her into Gryffindor, as they'd demonstrated at the end of the Hogsmeade date, but didn't, went a long way to calming Ginny down. At the very least, she was able to keep enough of a lid on her feelings to avoid snapping at the first-years playing Exploding Snap right next to the table where she spread out her Astronomy charts. Still, the frustration simmered, and she tossed and turned all night with a tension headache.

* * *

The next morning, life felt better. Her Friday free period fell so that she had the rest of the day off, after lunch, and she was going to go out and fly till the whole team was done for the day and they could hold a full practice – their last chance to fine-tune, before the Hufflepuff game. She went down to breakfast, studied the ceiling to get an idea of the weather she could expect, and her lips curved into a gleeful smirk of anticipation. Rain – perfect. Nothing better to keep away the rest of the school, to isolate her, to challenge her – it would be Ginny Weasley and her Cleansweep, and not a damn thing else, all afternoon. There was nothing like the satisfaction of going up against even the elements themselves, in the pursuit of Quidditch.

The intent grin faded from her face when she saw an owl winging towards her – coming in low, by the looks of it, from the direction of the Slytherin table. She bit her lip, wondering what disaster was winging her way.

The owl swooped low, dropped its parcel, and was followed by another. Two bags of Chocolate Frogs sat squirming before her. Scribbled on each in what looked like ink, but was almost assuredly spelled-on letters, were identical messages: "Pax?"

She was feeling generous. She would enjoy the chocolate, and their attempts to placate her, until the next time the boys pissed her off. That way, she could keep them around. Better to _know_ where they were, what they were up to, she reasoned. And naturally, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they were rather delicious to have around – eye-candy that compared to the truffles from Draco in terms of quality.

Humming, she attacked her scrambled eggs. Couldn't fly without some ballast in her stomach, after all.

* * *

Blaise knew that Draco would be drawn like a magnet to the Quidditch field all weekend – had known it since the night of his date with Ginny, when Draco had returned to his whispered promises of things they would do to the redhead for the first time since learning her name. Wary of risking their newly restored favor with the fair lady, they knew they couldn't get caught tailing her… at least, not till tomorrow. A day's rest would ease her temper. So Blaise had made him swear up and down not to get caught, and released him like a Captain would a Bludger, to home in on his target.

It took two Disillusionment Spells – one on himself, one on his broom – and an Insoluble Charm to ensure that Draco would be unseen by Ginny and unaffected by the downpour that had started during lunch.

He hardly resented Ginny for leading him out into the rain, though – if only he were _flying_ on his broom, rather than toying with it as he crouched on the ledge of this queer little alcove on the side of the castle closest to the pitch… if he were swooping as she was, intent on her drill patterns of weaves and dives, the rain that dripped into his eyes, puddled in his ears and tickled his nose would be completely non-existent, as far as he was concerned. As it was, he was rather uncomfortable. Ginny would be pleased if she knew, he was sure.

He spent the rest of the afternoon camping out there, skipping Arithmancy and not caring much. He warmed himself against the chilly gusts of wind by watching the graceful Gryffindor captain, first as she was lost in her own world, and then as she honed and sharpened her team.

_Gryffindor should have made her captain last year,_ he mulled, ignoring the fact that she'd only joined the house team last year. _She's a natural. Potter may be a leader of men when it comes to Defense, but she knows how to whip her idiot fellows into shape._

His admiration of her elegant form switched fluidly between the reality before him, and his imagination of twining their wet, rain-slick bodies together, quickly generating enough heat that stripping in this awful weather would seem not just possible, but natural… as natural as the goals she scored in a flawless maneuver against her Keeper, Brown… as natural as his own glide into _his_ goal would be… no way she'd be able to keep him out, nor would she want to…

* * *

Quidditch, to Ginny, meant dirty, brutal effort. She'd come to the conclusion that people played better, therefore, when they were already a bit sweaty, a bit red in the face, and so in the locker room, right before Saturday's game was to begin, she lead her team in a rousing bout of jumping jacks and push-ups.

So, when Draco showed up alongside her as she walked from the locker room to the pitch, a fresh flush on his pale cheeks, natty white shirt and linen slacks, and a daft ring of clovers round his neck, he not only irritated her with his presence, but with how he made her feel grimy and disgusting in comparison. "Oh fairest of them all!" he began in a rapturous tone.

"Oh, _please_," Gin mumbled, and Blaise stifled a snort of laughter.

"_What?_" Draco whined, dropping the knight-in-shining-armor routine on being interrupted. "I just wanted to wish you luck, Ginny." He clasped her damp hand, bowing over it, and resuming his lovelorn act. "Since I, tragically, must remain earthbound – I beg of you, a token?"

She favored him with a blank stare. He pouted. "Might I have some token of m'lady's to console me as you go off to your aerial combat?" She gaped wordlessly, as Draco fluttered his eyes like the maiden she'd called him, last week. Blaise was literally choking on his suppressed laughter, now.

After a moment's silence, Draco said in his normal tone of voice, "I'll take that as a yes, then," and plucked from her hand the grimy hand towel she'd been mopping her face with after the warm-up exercises. Skipping off to the Slytherin side of the stands, he flapped the ragged cloth at her like a handkerchief "Ta, loves, and Gin, crush Hufflepuff!"

As he ran off, Gin whirled on the lingering Blaise. "_What_ has he been drinking?" she demanded to know.

"Not drinking," Blaise assured her with a smirk. "I convinced him of the benefits of proper relaxation before an exciting event like Quidditch. So we were… frolicking in the woods. It seems to have put a spring in his step, hasn't it? All the… frolicking…"

"Right – frolicking," Ginny repeated in a dubious tone, rolling her eyes. "Sounds so relaxing." Blaise and Draco playing at being satyrs wasn't her main interest, though. "That still doesn't explain his totally out of character good wishes for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, though," she complained.

Blaise offered up a pensive frown. "Well, the mind of the Draco is difficult to decipher, but, I think that mostly, he wants a chance to play you for the championship, so he needs Gryffindor to do well."

Ginny had to admit that was more characteristically competitive of Draco. Blaise seized her shoulder as she started to trot off after her team onto the pitch. "Oi – I wanted to wish you luck, too!"

"Well, then get on with it," she told him, amused. The grin fell off her face as he ducked in for a peck on the cheek and ran off, leaving a rather stunned Ginny taking deep breaths of air smelling faintly of clover, male sweat, and a clean, aromatic whiff of some cologne. She cursed herself both for being at the point she could recognize his cologne, and for standing around like a goose on account of Blaise Zabini, when there was Quidditch to be played.

* * *

Ginny's Chasing was near-perfect – aside from an unfortunate foul, and an unavoidable tackle that lost her the Quaffle, her only real mistake was the one time she let herself skim the stands looking for a hand-towel-waving fool. Still, she racked up forty points and assisted in another four goals, as well.

When inexperienced Nicholas's native talent finally pulled through, after a hundred ages, and he managed to catch the Snitch, they all hurtled to earth, hugging and squealing – Ginny had never thought to find herself squealing with Lavender Brown, but the seventh-year's Keeping was excellent, as she'd kept the score nicely tied until the Snitch was caught. Gryffindor side's celebrations were cut short when a smelly shadow loomed over them.

"Weasley," croaked Filch, a gleeful grin spreading on his wrinkly face. Suddenly her brave, courageous fellow Gryffindors were shrinking away – Erin mumbled something about "showers," and they all vanished.

"Sir," she responded, trying not to do something stupid like throw herself at his feet pleading for mercy.

"Your tools, Weasley." He handed her a pointy stick and a large bag.

"Where do you want me to clean?" she asked, resignedly.

"Oh, I'd say _everywhere_ should do it. The pitch, all the stands, and for good measure, the locker rooms. And oh, just you try to magick the trash into the bag, and see what happens."

He slunk off. After a challenge like that, there was only one thing Ginny could reasonably do. She pulled out her wand, and pointing it at the bag, directed, "Accio Bertie Botts bag."

The crumpled bag of jellybeans swooped over, dutifully hovering over the bag Ginny held open. When she flicked her wand to make it drop in, though, it twisted in midair for a moment before ricocheting across the field, sailing neatly through the lowest Hufflepuff goal.

"Damn. That answers that," she muttered.

"Nice aim," a voice called out behind her.

It was Draco. _Of course_ it was Draco, because who else would she be more irritated to see in her present state – Quidditch robes sopping from the long game, a distinctly grimy smell of sweat hovering around her, and a trash-pick in her hands.

"Now if only you'd shown such excellent aim against Ellington," he murmured once he was close enough that she could still catch his low words.

She glowered at him, and bent to skewer a crisps packet, slowly and deliberately placing it into the bag. This time, it obediently settled into the bottom of her trashbag and showed no signs of imminent abrupt departure. She skewered a Chocolate Frog wrapper next, and imagined Draco's face as she ground in the point of her trash-picking stick. The movement hurt her – Hufflepuff's heavyset Chaser had checked her hard, smashing into her arm and ribs. "I'd have shown much more excellent aim against Ellington if I hadn't been fouled in the middle of my goal attempt."

"Right…" Draco said in a skeptical tone.

"Fuck off," she shot at him, turning her back as she stalked about the pitch, jabbing at scraps of paper.

"I'm just saying," he argued, jogging lightly behind her, "you really could do better if you had a more aggressive game – your approach is excellent in a technical sense, but you need to rough it up out there."

"Show you _aggressive_," was the savage response, punctuated by savage trash-pick stabbing, but an undaunted Draco continued to follow her around, raving about the superiority of his tactics. Unfortunately, with nothing to do but pick up trash, she couldn't bring herself to ignore him. Not when he tried to sketch out darting blocks and sweeps in words – she quickly became enraptured, but finally interrupted him, as she worked her way up through the Ravenclaw stands, "Look, I can't really envision that move – it doesn't seem like it would work, in my head."

"That's because it's meant to be _done_, not described. Here." Before she quite knew what was happening, her pick was wrenched from her hand and a different long beam of wood was pressed into it – Draco had apparently picked up her Cleansweep from where she'd left it at the base of the stands. "Well, mount," he urged when she just stood gaping at him.

A blush spread over her face as the double meaning occurred to her, but she obeyed, hopping astride her broom, though looking scrupulously down so he couldn't see her expression. "Alright – so – it's a lunge, mid-normal flight, I followed you that far…"

He laid down the pick, stepping to her side and weaving his hand to show her, one hand resting on her back. "Think you get that?"

"Well, tell me if I've got it," she said, a serious look of focus in her eyes, and she took off.

Draco was twitching as she came back from her first try, trying to contain his impatience. "No," he said as soon as she was in earshot.

"I know, I didn't manage to roll as fast as you described," she agreed.

He suggested, "Try just those rolls – a set of ten, maybe."

She brushed hair from her face. "Yeah – ok. I'll try and pin that part down." Her face fixed in rapt concentration, she kicked off again.

* * *

It was ten minutes later that she'd completed the set to her satisfaction, but when she looked for Draco, she couldn't see him – nudging her broom in a circle, she spied him now in the Slytherin section, along with all her stuff from Filch. "What the…" she murmured under her breath, racing closer and ready to scream at him – until she was close enough to make out the motions of the tiny black-robed figure. He was cleaning.

He stopped as soon as she was close, of course, to immediately criticize her technique, and quite honestly, that worked well enough to distract her that she didn't question what the hell he was doing, or why – the agonies of trying to nail a Hemmlich's Reverse, fresh out of the rolls she'd only just perfected, were all-encompassing.

The sky was dusky and the cold had gotten to them both when they called it quits – but more to the point, all the trash was cleared, and Ginny had a few new tricks up her Quidditch robe-sleeve now. They trudged back to the castle with little conversation. A hot shower was all either could focus on, at that point. Ginny was touched though, when, leaving the Gryffindor prefect's bathroom, she was stopped by a house elf with a steaming flask of hot chocolate. "Is being for 'The Fairest of Them All,' Miss – Gicky is thinking this means you?"

"Apparently," Ginny muttered wryly, pushing wet strands of hair out of her face and taking a deep gulp. "Ahhh…" she sighed. "Tell whichever boy put you up to this, thanks," she said, and with the drink to fortify her, fetched her Astronomy textbook and set off to finish her long-neglected problem set.

* * *

Neville's first strike in the DA campaign was, it had to be said, a juvenile one. Luna had researched a Confetti Charm and its adaptations, and Ginny had told him the Prefects were meeting in the fifth floor corridor the following Saturday morning, according to what Draco had mentioned in her earshot to Blaise, and so Neville had used what seemed the only potions knowledge he'd ever gleaned to boil down Puking Pastilles and condense them into a super-concentrated powder. That same powder had been bagged and hung directly across from the Prefects' conference room, and when the door opened, Ginny had signaled Neville, who cast a slicing spell, cutting open the bag. Immediately on the slicing spell's heels he cast the modified Confetti Charm, which, instead of sending the powder gently raining down, blasted it sideways, directly into the faces of the Prefects. Now the hall was crowded with vomiting, cursing prefects.

"What a fantastically disgusting prank," uttered a voice behind her as she watched Neville, flushed, run away. She had finally broken herself of whirling around in surprise, now.

"Blaise."

In his typical overly-familiar way, he slung an arm over her shoulder, having to match her fast march down the hall to do so.

"You know the only way you're getting out of this corridor without being dragged to the Carrows' office is with me," he said into her ear. Sure enough, Amycus's bellowing was already resounding off the walls.

"I'm aware," she said conversationally, snuggling under his arm, against his side. He soaked in her sweet floral aroma and the heat of her body seeping into his. "Why do you think I haven't jinxed you yet?" she continued sweetly as they swept through the crowd past the Carrows, and Blaise winced, but kept his arm where it was until they reached a stairway and she ducked out of his clutches.

Undaunted, he followed. She didn't speak to him as they climbed three flights. Heading out from the stairway into a quiet hallway, he readied himself to offer a clever guess as to their destination ("Ah, trying to find an abandoned classroom to continue this little discussion?") when she peeled off and ducked behind a statue, where a first year Ravenclaw girl waited.

If there was any sight that could actually startle the irrepressible Blaise into hanging back and behaving himself, and granting Ginny privacy, it was this – the blue-clad and red-clad girls engaging in some covert meeting. He loafed against the opposite wall, idly twirling his wand, and watching them confer out of the corner of his eye. Finally the girl – Melissa, if he remembered right – pressed a coin into Ginny's hand. Gin nodded sharply, and the girls whirled off in opposite directions, Ginny heading back down the hall to the stairs. Blaise fell easily back into step with her. "Do you _ever_ stop plotting?" he marveled.

"Oh, Merlin yes, I hardly plot at all – unlike, say, a mentally-challenged Slytherin, it doesn't take up that much of my time or energy," she added snidely, a smile on her face as she turned the coin over in her hand.

"Well, we are known to be slow. And stubborn," he replied cheerfully.

"Seriously though, plotting is Neville's lookout. I'm usually far too busy, between Quidditch and projects like this…"

Surprised, he asked, "Then that wasn't a Dumbledore's Army type-thing?"

She stopped short half a second, threw him an incredulous look, and took off again, flying down the stairs two at a time. Seeing that he was still right at her shoulder, she asked, "You really think I'm going to tamely lead you around to all our co-conspirators?" she scoffed. "I don't care if you think that my 'breasts are like honeydews,' you're still a Slytherin, and the Head Boy. And this school is controlled by Death Eaters. Even if your infatuation with me made you keep mum, a Cruciatus would have the names out of you in no time."

Her bleak tone made him gulp. Blaise most decidedly did not like remembering that they were in a war, that there were serious things afoot that defied his fun-and-games approach to life. "So what _were_ you doing meeting Melissa in unused corridors, then?"

As they reached a landing, she slowed up, and looked him over, squinting. "Hmm. You're going to follow me around all day, aren't you?"

He beamed, pleased she'd seen the point. "Nothing else to do on a lovely Saturday like today. Draco's at Quidditch practice – which I'm sure you knew, or you wouldn't have helped the attack, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "I did wait till you were out of the blast area – if only because, annoying as you are now, you'd be worse still if you were throwing up every half few seconds." She frowned, and ordered, "Grab a cloak then, if you need one – we're going outside."

He vanished for all of half a minute to grab his cloak as directed. He was pleased at how much that startled her – clearly, the secret passages into and out of Slytherin were a secret even from the girl who'd had access to Potter's magic map. Draco would be thrilled to hear of precious Potter's deficiency.

* * *

They went marching out into the bracing cold, straight for the forest. With a short laugh, Blaise asked, "Does your brother know you're traipsing around in here?"

Ginny laughed too. "Lord, no. He'd start gibbering about how mad monsters will eat me." She led on in silence until they'd gotten deep enough in to be amongst the older trees, then weaved in and out, searching the ground. Soon enough she stumbled on what she was looking for. "Ah-hah," she crooned, pleased, sinking to her knees, starting to run her hands through…

"Leaves and acorns?" Blaise asked aloud, befuddled.

With a grin, she murmured, "Mm-hm," and, shuffling through the fallen leaves, plucked up an acorn – "Nice and large," she said, pleased, and began brushing dirt off it.

"Um. If you were hungry, we could have swiped some food from the kitchens," he pointed out.

"Mm-hm," Ginny agreed, not budging, just rummaging around for another acorn. "Oh, damn," she groaned, inspecting it. A squirrel had been at it, Blaise saw. She thrust it at him. "Make yourself useful."

"Ah – what?" he stumbled, flustered.

"Your nails," she said. "They're longer than mine –" (No kidding – he'd noticed that she had a bad habit of chewing on hers) – "and even though this acorn's gnawed, the cap is lovely."

He scrutinized it uncertainly. "It's brown," he observed, intelligently.

"Now, it is," she said with an amused, tolerant grin, dropping a few stunningly red and orange leaves into a pouch in her pocket, along with a few acorns.

Obedient, if confused, Blaise dug his nail along the seam between nut and cap, separating them delicately, and handing the cap back to her, where it went after the other things into the bag. She was paying little mind to him – presently, she was scrutinizing a handful of twigs, seeming to be looking for the straightest ones. He felt around for another acorn – putting his hand on a few stickers in the process – and de-capped that one as well, placing the thimble-sized cap on his head and squinting his eye to hold the acorn there, making himself look like… "VIGILANCE!" he hollered, and Ginny jolted.

She stared at him a second. "Mad-Eye," she said dully.

"What, no applause for my award-winning imitation?" he whinged.

"You startled me into smashing this," she said, holding out a hand with shards of robin's eggshells in it. "And Mad-Eye died a few months ago."

Blaise sank into a crouch, leaning against a tree for support. After his stunned brain began to process thought again, he managed a stumbling apology: "Shit. I had no clue – fuck, Ginny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a jackass."

"I'd have thought it was common knowledge in your circles," she said quietly, turning her back to him as she continued her hunt.

He sighed, frustrated. "I'm not part of those circles," he said, weakly. He thought he heard a skeptical huff from Ginny. "Never have been, never will be," he affirmed in a stronger tone.

She turned again to face him, studying his face for an instant, before holding out another squirrel-scarred acorn. "Can you get this for me?" He took it immediately, long nails working the edge expertly. "And, Blaise – don't mess around like that if you're going to help me, or I'll Bat Bogey you, okay?"

The Bat Bogey Hex was one of the threats Draco complained of most constantly when Blaise was still working on bringing him around on the issue of pursuing Ginny. With a gulp, he vowed, "I'll watch myself, yeah."

* * *

The pouch in Ginny's pocket was impossibly full when they headed back to the castle – it had to have been charmed in some way not immediately obvious, given the strange and various things Blaise had seen Ginny put in it over the last hour. Their fingers were white and numb before his fanatically single-minded, close-mouthed task-master determined they were done, and now they had only to duck unseen out of the forest – even seventh-year Prefect status was no excuse for wandering around the Forbidden Forest.

Once they'd made a break for it, the rest of the walk was pleasant and sedate. Then they hit the castle, and Ginny, edgy, sped up, clearly trying to ditch Blaise.

"Are you really going to leave me in the lurch like this, without explaining what I just spent the last hour helping you for?" he pled.

At the top step of the Entrance Hall's stairway, she hesitated. "Yes, alright, fine. You were useful. You can come along with me."

"But where are we going?" Draco asked, casually striding up from out of nowhere and joining the two of them as Ginny strolled to her mystery destination. She rolled her eyes at him – it figured that he'd find her and Blaise, she supposed.

She couldn't be too irritated though - for once, she felt like she had the upper-hand over the two impossible boys. It was quite the pleasant feeling. "You'll see. Just be patient," she told them with a mysterious smile, leading them further and further away from the main corridors of the school, into dust and cobwebs.

_

* * *

_

A.N.- So... this qualifies as a minor cliffhanger I suppose, but I really, really think next chapter will make up for any temporary irritation... from here-on-out this story will start earning its M rating... oh yes... :-) I hope you all enjoyed this chapter - admittedly, it's a bit of a transition chapter, but we must give Ginny a chance to adjust to the idea that both boys want her, mustn't we?


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Ginny hoped that Draco and Blaise felt as thoroughly lost as she had when McGonagall had shown her to her allotted room, last year, but she doubted it, given their prefect status. If they knew the password for the Fat Lady, they definitely had been told where the Student-Access Activities rooms were - the kind of resource Fred and George would have killed for, had their business been one they actually could have written down on the Activities Rooms Application forms.

Still, when they reached the painting of an alabaster angel, wings spread in flight, she leaned in to whisper the password, on the off-chance that they didn't already know _that_. "Land of Spare-Oom," she breathed, and the portrait swung open for her, and the lights came on to reveal the messy landscape of the Weasley's Gifts workshop.

* * *

Half the room was occupied by a lump of material that on further inspection looked to be a derelict Ravenclaw common room sofa. Another part of the cramped area appeared to be taken by a squatting porcupine, until Ginny swept aside the 'spines,' which proved to be unraveled spools of the copper wire, strewn across a collapsing old desk. Blaise used restoration charms on the legs, ensured it wouldn't disintegrate under his weight, and hopped up to sit facing Ginny. "Nice place, one of the better of the rat holes doled out to students."

Ginny nodded. "I know – I've seen the one Colin got for his photography, it's miniscule. Course, he's hardly improved it, filling it with nasty smelling potions…"

Draco, with a sullen look on his face, asked, "Been in Colin's darkroom a lot, then?"

Ginny just rolled her eyes – so did Blaise, she noted – and complained, "What, now because you're stalking me, I own it to you to curtail my oh-so-whorish ways? Does this mean I have to give up my plan of doing every sixth year boy in the school? Drat. How disappointing."

Draco scowled at her flippancy. Blaise, amused, chuckled, "Just ignore him, I think he's just sulky at not getting you to himself all morning like I did."

Draco's scowl deepened and he flopped on the couch with a look of icy disdain and disinterest as Ginny started emptying her Poppins Bag. His 'disinterest' meant he went nearly cross-eyed trying to watch while seeming not to watch, as Ginny piled artifact after artifact on the table. Having emptied her bag of leaves, acorns, and other debris, she began rummaging through desk drawers, pulling out pliers, and a rather intimidating pointy object. "What on earth-" Blaise started to ask, but she snapped her fingers at him, directing him to the couch.

Obediently he slipped down from his perch and slunk over to join Draco, draping himself across his boyfriend's lap as Ginny, humming, started snipping at lengths of wires. She fed the strands through the weave of an edge of lace, making a series of tight, ruffly circles, and used the sharp pointy thing to bore holes in the acorns, which, along with beads, joined the lace on the wire. "What the hell?" Blaise tried a confused question again, but this time directed it at Draco, who only shrugged.

Thereafter a rapt silence reigned as they watched Ginny delicately manipulate the leaves and acorns into abstract forms strung along the wire. Suddenly – a few things slid together, a few fold in the copper, and Blaise and Draco were looking at – "A mobile?" Draco asked.

Blaise simultaneous marveled, "Little dancers!" which was exactly what the mobile was – acorn-headed ballerinas with gracefully outstretched willow leaf limbs, resting on a splash of 'dance floor' just happening to occupy the shape of a fat oak leaf.

"This was your business with Margaret? To promise her this?" Blaise asked sagely.

"How obscure," mused Draco. "And yet, girls will buy queer stuff like that… clever. Do you make much with this endeavor of yours?"

"Quite a bit," she said with a grin. A quick frown flitted across her face as she amended, "Well, once I've laid in some supplies I _can't_ just pick up off the ground. And it's not just girls, wise-arse – just because this one's for Margaret's baby sister back at home, it's quite girly. I could just as easily make a Blast-Ended Skewt or a Quidditch diorama. Well, the Skewt, maybe not _easily_…" she said when Draco raised a surprised eyebrow.

Blaise sat up on the edge of his seat, leaning forward, hands roving delicately over the mobile. "Where're my acorn caps?" he demanded.

"Set aside for a different project," she told him, at which he pouted.

Draco, on the other hand, was lounging back on the sofa, but Ginny thought she could read the look in his eyes… "Interesting," he commented.

She broke into a wide grin. "Oh, you think so?"

"What?" he asked, made wary by her knowing tone.

"My prices double for Malfoys, I'll have you know," she said. Impressed, he raised an eyebrow. "You had that 'customer' look on your face," she explained with a grin.

"Ah. Watching me that closely, are you?" he purred, and she rolled her eyes. "Well, yes – my mother's birthday will be soon and I need something suitably unique and beautiful."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you'll not be telling her where you got your unique beautiful present from."

Draco pondered that for a moment. "Well, I suppose I could – if I told her I _stole_ it from you…"

She rolled her eyes again. "Alright, well, get back to me with the details, ok?" Draco nodded and resumed idly examining his fingernails. Blaise was still fascinated by Ginny's craftsmanship. Ginny surveyed them both. "Right – well, I'm done," she announced in a pointed tone, tugging the mobile out of Blaise's grasp.

Blaise settled back onto the couch, slinging his arm around Draco. "Don't let us keep you," he said politely, flashing a roguish smile.

"Oh, after you," she chirped through gritted teeth.

Blaise pouted. "Can't we, er, follow you out in a minute or thirty? We'll close everything up behind us…"

"No fucking chance I'm leaving you two in alone in here."

Draco, wild grin on his lips, elbowed Blaise. "Didja hear that? She refuses to be left out while we're molesting each other!"

"OUT. Now. Scat," Ginny instructed, pretending she hadn't heard Draco's exclamation. Which was a pity, because it meant she had to pretend not to hear all that followed as she hustled the boys out of her workshop… that bit about how they each wanted to suck one of the rosebuds that were her nipples, how they wanted to let their hands roam all over her body, to brace her between them and work together to bring her unimaginable heights of pleasure – ignore their flirting and promises, Ginny might, but she sure as hell had a hard time forgetting them, later.

* * *

In the last week of October, twelve old DA students received owl post. Each letter was a short, chatty note from someone they'd never heard of, and each had a nonsensical return address composed of letters and numbers.

It took over an hour of anxious work in the Room of Requirements before Luna, Seamus, and Ernie, who were taking Arithmancy and had the right kind of minds for codes, figured it out – a wireless signal, and a password, and a date and time – 9 pm, Halloween.

Draco and Blaise were disappointed to hear her reply when they asked her, 'would they see her at the Halloween feast that night,' and she told them, quite serenely, 'not a chance.'

But when the DA had passed three hours sitting and listening to static, they had to concede that perhaps they'd misinterpreted the code, or their wireless was broken, or it was all a prank…

* * *

It was Ginny who was sitting (trying to get some reading done for History of Magic _without_ Draco popping up behind her and telling her which old warlock in her book invented which sex potions, or sex positions,) in the Room of Requirements when the radio, left on the lowest volume, crackled to life. She leapt across the room, turning it up –

"…rry about that last night, folks," came the voice of none other than her older brother. "We discovered there are many, ah, technical issues to deal with when you're running a clandestine radio broadcast. Ah well, you live and learn. And that's the purpose of our program –"

"You haven't told them the name," Lee Jordan's warm, amused voice interrupted George.

"Oh – damn. Right – what you're listening to here, folks, is the pirate signal of the Harry Potter Alliance, coming to you live from… like we'll bloody well tell you." Three male voices laughed heartily. Jerking out of her shocked stupor, Ginny lunged for her bag, scrabbling to find her DA Galleon.

* * *

The DA's exuberance was all-too-easily spotted the next day by the Slytherin prefects, and it clearly drove them mad that there was no discernable reason for it – nothing was vandalized or blown up, transfigured or charmed, or dosed with Skiving Snackboxes.

Of course, for one pair of Slytherins, that posed a puzzle they were intent on figuring out. And for one DA student, it was the last thing she wanted.

The purported "Harry Potter Alliance" was nothing of the sort. Granted, everyone in it knew Harry, supported… whatever it was he was doing. But not one of the cleverly code-named cast knew jack shit about what in the world Harry Potter was actually doing. While Ginny was beyond thrilled to hear the twins' voices, she'd _known_ Fred and George were safe. What she hadn't known – and still didn't know – was what her closest brother, who was in mortal danger, was up to, and if he was alright, and for one glorious moment when she heard the name of the radio program, she had thought she was about to find out.

Instead, she was left with crushing disappointment, and had her heartache over her brother, ex, and best friend renewed all over again.

Finally, after a wearying day of alternating between trying to seduce her and trying to charm the DA's secret out of her, their constant refrain of "I'll worship your body all night long if you tell me what's going on" petered out.

Blaise, bundle of lust that he was, was inclined to drag it out – "Come on, Ginny… as much as I love Draco grabbing my ass, smacking it – if he was reaching around an incredible, curvy armful like you to do it, as we pressed you between our naked bodies, it would be all the more mind-blowing. And let me tell you, the things Draco does to me are already pretty damn mind-blowing."

Ginny grew silent and sullen. Now, on top of everything else, her damn simmering interest in Blaise's perfect arse had just exploded into a raging fire, with that fuel thrown onto it. Having only seen the boys kiss, really, the notion of just what they did together had somehow never really imprinted itself on her mind – after all, they only plied her with stories of what they would do to her, not what they did to each other. But now, Ginny was surprisingly jealous of Draco Malfoy for having Blaise's tight arse to himself.

That last thought was really too much for her nerves – she bolted up from the windowsill she'd been perched on after an exhausting attempt to lose the two prats, announcing, "Alright, fuck you two, I'm going to bed. If you follow me I'll find a charm that makes you two repel each other like magnets – I'm warning you."

Blaise looked horror-struck by the thought that such a spell might exist. Draco tried to placate Ginny and soothe his boyfriend at the same time. "Oh, come on, Blaise. You've worn her ragged teasing her tonight. Let's go cadge some liquor off the house elves, eh? And then we can sneak off to Ginny's workshop and put it to our own nefarious purposes."

Ginny affected a shiver of revulsion as the boys waved to her before scampering out of sight. Really, though, she was still trying to shrug off the thoughts their words inspired. When they had their hands all over each other like that, it was hard not to think about how often they'd offered to put those same hands all over her – dammit, this lack of snogging was really becoming unmanageable. Ginny sighed, and trudged back up the stairs. If she was caught out by the Carrows she'd be in trouble, even if it was slightly before curfew.

* * *

Slumping bonelessly through the Fat Lady's entrance, Ginny yawned. It was late in the evening –

– far too late for McGonagall to be in the Common Room when Ginevra returned to the Tower, unless something was wrong. "Ah, Miss Weasley – good, you're here," her professor said absently, and the fact that she wasn't in trouble disturbed her far more than any ten detentions.

McGonagall gestured for Ginny to take a seat among the gathered Gryffindors who occupied entire area before their Head. Ginny swallowed against the hard lump of anxiety in her throat and gingerly sat.

"As I started to say: I have had word… of Harry Potter." She said this in a tone so hushed that for an instant Ginny was dead certain that Harry was, well, dead. Then she took in the rapt expressions of her Housemates and the smile slowly, slowly conquering the stern face of the professor. A thrill swept the room, warming everyone but Ginny, as McGonagall took out a parchment and read to them the inspiring, noble words of the Chosen One, as he spoke to them from his distant exile. They were poetic words, intended to uplift, to ease the pains of life under the reign of Death Eaters. For all but one person in the room, they did exactly what they were meant to.

McGonagall had enjoined them all to keep this "sacred secret" of Harry's correspondence. Joy-lit faces had all solemnly so sworn. Then she had taken her leave. As Ginny had rushed to McGonagall's side before she left the Tower, wondering if there was a personal word for her from the gang, she read the professor's answer in her face – she gave a small, regretful headshake, and refused to meet Ginny's eyes. Feeling cold, as though she'd been doused with a bucked of water, Ginny had scrounged in her pocket for one of Fred and George's Rings of Silence, and jammed the tight circle of metal over her pinky, cursing herself for buying the wrong size.

* * *

'_Thanks a lot,'_ some line from some tune ran through Ginevra's head. _Thanks a lot, Potter. So much for all my guilt about not liking you anymore. Thanks a lot, Ron, for worrying about me as much as I do about you. Thanks, Hermione, for valuing me the way I do you._

'_I woke you up' – _Woken her up, it definitely had, to know that while she and the rest of the DA were all here, bundled up in their fears and dreaming of Potter's glorious return, he was thinking of them – but not of _her_.

_  
__'And I slit the throat of your confidence' – _Her ego really did take a beating, first when they left without her – what a slight to her skill and talent! – and then now, to realize that Ginny Weasley, Miss Popular with the boys, Miss Going through them a bit fast now, aren't you?, wasn't worth Harry Potter's time.

_  
__'And we laughed in the night' _– after the Chamber, after her first year, she'd drifted through the years at Hogwarts, until the DA, until she was _included_. They'd laughed through the nights together, when they were friends. Now, it was back to before – the three older ones laughing together; Ginny, alone.

'_And I felt all right' – _she did, oddly. The knot of feelings inside her was just that – a knot, something solid and choking, but not part of her. She was feeling crystal-clear, knowing what she did, now.

So she thought one more time… _'Thanks a lot…' _and took off out of the Tower.

* * *

Even though the circulation to her pinky was cut off, leaving her hand throbbing, Ginny was immensely glad to have the ring: McGonagall never turned around. Ginny followed her, padding noiselessly to the end of the hall, then numbly drifting across the corridor to the long hallway that cut across to the Charms corridor. Maybe about halfway down the hall, she came to the realization that she was heading to her workshop despite knowing full well that it was occupied by Blaise and Draco. As she cautiously opened the door into the empty Charms hall, she came to the realization that, in fact, she was heading there _because_ she knew the boys would be there.

It was only when she hissed the password and the painting swung open to let her through the workshop's door, and found the boys sitting there innocently, that she realized she'd hoped to stumble in on them. Ordinarily she would have taken herself to task for such voyeuristic tendencies. Instead, she just grinned. "You know, boys," – the purr in her voice took them, and her, by surprise – "if you don't close doors, just about anybody could come strolling by."

Blaise was so shocked he almost dropped his wineglass. Draco, though, seemed to read something in her face. He put his own wineglass aside, rose in a quick movement, and sidled behind her to shut the door. "Problem solved," he murmured in her ear from where he stood behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, his presence was so vivid to her.

"One problem solved," she corrected, recklessly.

"Oh?" Blaise asked, poise clearly recovered, as he rose and smoothly tugged her over to sit next to his spot on the beat-up sofa. Draco dogged her footsteps the whole way back and immediately claimed the spot on her other side, his knee digging into her thigh, he was so close to her. When she didn't immediately clarify what the other problem was, Blaise, concerned, leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

That gesture burned away a good deal of her icy anger – but left her with the heedless wildness that had brought her down here in the first place.

"Ginny?" Draco asked, catching a glimpse of her face. He leaned in closer, practically wrapping his lithe body around hers in an attempt to meet her eyes. She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes to try and regain her composure. This was simply too much of a freefall, emotionally. Anger and bitter resentment shouldn't be replaced so easily by outright lust.

But with her eyes still closed, she could sense the heat of Draco's face, not even an inch from hers, and she could smell his breath, sweetened by something like berries, but stronger. She heard a low sigh from Blaise, and opening her eyes, saw him lean forward too, all three of them bent in, heads together. The grey and blue eyes on hers, the two waiting, expectant gazes on those sculpted faces, and their bodies, pressed around hers, pushed her wild incaution to the breaking point. She shifted, bringing herself cheek to cheek with Draco, the corners of their mouths touching, and Blaise leaned in, his mouth seizing both of theirs.

For someone terminally under-snogged, it was intoxicating. Ginny sank into a fuzzy cloud of warm, delicious lips on hers, punctuated by occasional, electric moments where one of the boys' mouths opened, snagging her lip between his teeth to nibble briefly, or sliding his tongue deep into her mouth, taking turns in deepening the three-way kiss.

When, panting slightly, they broke apart minutes later, Blaise unsurprisingly recovered first. "Did _that_ solve the problem?"

She swallowed a few times, nestling herself between the two boys on the sofa. As she looked around the room, blinking, she spotted a bottle – "No – but let me catch my breath and maybe have a drink? Then we could work on it some more."

* * *

The next hour was snatches of hastily gulped strawberry wine, and long, drugging kisses. It wasn't until her leg started getting pins and needles that she realized she'd slipped into something close to a recline across the boys, her hair fanned out across Blaise's lap so he could tug his long nails through it, and her rump on Draco's lap, his hand possessively on her stomach as he leaned in for another languorous snog. When she shifted away, trying to wake up her numb leg, his eyes bulged, and she realized she'd just shifted her weight to crush him in a very tender area. Of course, that brought to the forefront of her mind just how snugged-up she had been to said tender area, and in general how heedlessly she'd let herself be laid up with these two boys.

"I should go," she gasped out, stammering, clambering to her feet. Naturally, her foot exploded with pins and needles again, and she stumbled.

"Give us a minute longer," Blaise instructed, pulling her wrist. "You can't stand straight, and Merlin knows when we'll catch you in a mood like this again." Because she knew, too, that this was all going to seem very incredibly foreign in the morning, she sat back down, Blaise's arm shifting around her, accidently grazing her breast with electrifying fingertips. Accidently? Well, it was unlikely for him to do so accidently – but at the same time, she figured, if he was trying to grope her, he would have touched her for more than .02 seconds.

Then Draco, still frowning at her injury to his person, demanded reparations, and two pairs of questing lips met hers again.

* * *

Ginny woke in the morning and immediately felt like thumping her head against the table to try and shake loose the memories of the night before. She was pretty sure, though, that they were permanently burned into her mind, and that nearly made her want to cry, it was so frustrating.

Quite aside from the remarkable scale of the probable consequences of the night before, Ginevra Weasley was now helplessly horny. The sole reassurance she could take away from last night was the way it had ended – Blaise and Draco walking her back in the forms of brunette Ravenclaws, acting civil and solicitous and completely normal, and not at all like they'd just had her sprawled across their laps for an hour and their tongues in her mouth. (-Oh Merlin, their tongues in her mouth-) They'd talked idly about the Hieberus book series, Blaise promising to pass on to her the next in the series, and each boy had given her an almost chaste kiss goodnight before heading off.

It made it really, really difficult to blame them for any part of last night. Fortunately, she still had Harry Potter to blame. She ruminated on that for a few hours until it was time to meet Neville and Luna, striding up to the Room of Requirement in a funk, trying to regain a sense of normality.

And why not? She was going for a routine meeting with Luna and Neville, doing the things she normally did, had done since the first week of school. She was a perfectly unremarkable girl, who fought Death Eating teachers, and didn't curl up with two Slytherin boys late at night to be snogged senseless. Yes indeed.

Reaching the mural of Barnabas the Barmy, pacing impatiently the three times, concentrating on meeting her friends, Ginny got the door to appear, and she stepped through hastily, but only saw Luna's blonde hair. "Luna – what are you up to? Where's –"

That was when Luna turned around and Ginny nearly choked. She'd wondered vaguely, when she entered, why Luna was seated facing away from Ginny on the chair – now, as Neville spluttered and blushed and stammered, trying to say something that would erase the awkwardness in the room, she saw why – his robe was shrugged off his shoulders, shirt half buttoned. By the way Luna hopped off his lap holding her robe tightly at the collar, it was a reasonable guess she had the same problem. Then – _oh_ – that white heap at Luna's feet – her shirt. Ah.

"Oh dear," Ginny whispered, then cleared her throat. "Erm." She backed away slowly. "I'll just come back – later?"

Neville started to protest that no, they weren't about to drive her away, she wasn't interrupting anything, she should stay, but Luna, serenely unaware or at least uncaring about being caught shirtless, said reasonably, "We're not going to get anything accomplished with you two in the state you're in – for heaven's sakes, you can't even meet each other's eyes, much less plan a revolution."

Relieved, Ginny seized that oh-so-logical excuse. "Right, right. I'll… come back later."

"Detention, later," Neville reminded her, mumbling to the floor.

"Oh, that's right – your nightly quality time with the Carrows…" her wry joke seemed to reassure Neville that everything was going to be ok – he finally brought himself to look at _her_ feet, instead of his own, at any rate. "I'll see you two tomorrow, the same time, then?" She couldn't help making a small dig – "_Five-fifteen_, alright? I can remind you in class if you like…"

Luna smiled blandly. "That would be lovely, thank you." Ginny flashed a quick, tight smile and ducked out as abruptly as she entered – even as quick as she left, she was still fairly sure Luna was back on Neville's lap and twining herself in him before the door had even shut.

* * *

Ginny would have gone straight down to the Quidditch pitch and dealt with the scarring mental images that way –_right, Gin, you were 'scarred' by the idea of someone you're close to getting some action. Not jealous, oh no…_- but at the rate her day was going, Ginny was convinced she'd probably stumble into an orgy in the locker rooms.

There was, of course, another sensible way to deal with what she was feeling right now, though…"_Where the _fuck_ is Blaise with that book?_" she hissed, irritated, to herself, as she pelted down the stairs, intent on finding either some consoling chocolate, or the rascal that had her latest Hieberus book.

Two alcoves down from the stairway, a blonde gave a smug grin, eyes sparkling as he took off in the opposite direction down the hall to intercept his lover first and pitch a little idea.

_

* * *

_

A.N. - So. Short and to the point - well, except for my unexpected foray into song-ficness. ("Thanks a Lot," Third Eye Blind). Also, there's a quick flash of C.S. Lewis tribute in the beginning. Anyway. The steaminess will continue until further notice - further notice consisting of the words, 'the end.' Hehehe. If you approve, DO let me know... :-D


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_Blaise and Draco's (unwritten) Checklist (with commentary):_

_Get Ginny to make out when _not_ under emotional duress. ('-Sniff, sniff…I think I feel some emotional duress coming on, Draco,' '-Well I'm not going to snog you if you're whinging.')_

_Cop a feel for longer than .02 seconds ('-Way to suck, Blaise…' '-Shut up, Draco.')_

"_Tap the center of her being with surges of eroticism" ('-…Or, for those of us who aren't romance-novel reading simpletons, get her off.' '-Honestly, Draco… just try them, will you?')_

_Bury our faces in those copper curls '-Yeah, _those_ curls.' '-Oh, _Merlin_, yes.')_

_Enjoy intoxicatingly delicious Gryffindor sandwich in all its incredible varieties. ('-Oooh, varieties? I like variety.' '-Yes, well, we'll have to really stretch our imaginations, won't we?…' '-Mmm-hmm…')_

_From a more informal checklist, devised on the fly a few moments later:_

…_She and I could take turns wrapping our mouths around you…_

…_I'd have to return the favor, of course – hover between the two of you, a hand on one and a mouth on the other…_

…_You, with your mouth on her as she reclines back against the pillows, and me, above you, plunging into you and all three of us feeling the thrusts…_

…_Or her sucking you, and me fucking her, both of us filling her…_

* * *

It figured. Ginny was ready to kiss her dignity and pride goodbye and go _beg_ Blaise for the next Hieberus book– as she searched for him she plotted out a plaintive speech, at the end of which, if he wasn't relenting, she would fall in a piteous heap at his feet. But Blaise and Draco were mysteriously absent from her life that week.

Just to make life even better, Neville and Luna were very much _not_ absent. They were together from breakfast in the morning right up till Luna had to scurry out of Gryffindor tower to beat curfew at night, and the intervening time they spent joined at the tongue. Ginny was really tempted to take them to task for their personal displays of affection – out of concern for the horrified, disgusted eleven and twelve year olds nearby, of course, not on her own behalf. No, Ginny was being completely selfless in her opposition to the fucking _constant_ snogging of her friends.

When she _finally_ glimpsed Blaise in the hall, she nearly died of relief. Of course, he didn't have the book on him at the time, so it wasn't until the next day that she got _To Please a Roman_, and it wasn't till the day after that till she found the scene which had had Blaise wriggling his eyebrows and promising her it was the best yet, and would knock her knickers off.

_

* * *

_

Poor Leticia couldn't bring herself to leave her room for several days after Auctillius left to answer the Emperor's summons. She simply let the slaves bring her food and take it away again, let her friends come calling and leave distressed. Finally, after a few warming charms – she just couldn't stop shivering, in this desolate climate, without her lover – Leticia left her quarters. Auctillius had said something about a present for her in the covered central pavilion.

_Like the ghost in the temple up the road, she wandered faintly from room to room until she reached the pavilion. There, she stopped dead. The changes to the room must have drained him of half his magic – he'd created her a small, private paradise, in the middle of their barren villa, a glorious little pool for her to bathe in._

_Quickly, she cast a locking charm on the door behind her, and stifling a gleeful giggle, ran to the pool's edge, shedding her clothes…_

…_She felt a shiver overtake her body as the water lapped above her nipples, and submerged herself with delicious abandon. She surfaced on the far side of the pool, and her attention was immediately captured by a statuette on the pool's edge. But as she moved closer to examine it, she was brought up short by the most incredible waves of pleasure, rippling through her body. She gasped, then flushed at the sound of her own voice. What on earth…? After the initial heady rush faded, she realized that the sensation was definitely caused by the water somehow. Incredibly, it was gushing… homing in on her most delicate organ, on her center of being… _

_It was the work of only a few moments to discover that a pipe from the aqueduct fed the pool, and that that pipe came in at hip-height. Leticia sighed rapturously – her wonderful, thoughtful lover really had provided for her in his absence. His charm on the pipe quite clearly made it seek out her maidenly flower as soon as she drew near enough. So draw near she did, and the sensation swept her off her feet – Leticia floated, and let her culmination sweep over her in waves of exquisite delight._

* * *

Only one thought replayed in Ginny's mind the entire time she sat through Neville and Luna's strategy discussion. They were planning their next great scheme, involving the strongest, most pungent Foul-Smell Spells they could uncover, and Headmaster Snape's laundry. Unfortunately, her friends had arrived in the Room of Requirement just as Ginny read through Leticia's extravagantly incredible release. Now, she barely heard what the pair of them said to each other – all she could think was, '_Prefect's bathroom.'_

* * *

Ginny murmured "Cleanliness is next to Godfricness" to the portrait of a stern old woman and stole into the bathroom cautiously. Houses' prefect baths were one of the few truly protected places in the school – at least, it had taken Ginny till earning her Quidditch captaincy to acquire the password for Gryffindor's, and given the typical status of most Hogwarts 'secrets,' like Harry's map or cloak, or the means of getting into the Kitchens, or the Room of Requirement, that was rather remarkable.

That didn't stop her from not only bolting the door, but also casting a charm to alert her if anyone was coming, before shedding her robes.

It took a fair few moments of trial and error, but Ginny discovered which taps send jets of water bouncing across the water. With a quick re-direction spell she twisted that handful of taps to send their streams of water to bounce into the same spot, a few feet from the side of the bath. Ginny did wish she had a hip-high pipe like Leticia, but, one made do.

And make do she did, floating lazily, only occasionally sculling her hands a bit to keep her body centered under the spray. The air was thick with steam, and Ginny's head was fuzzy and heavy from the otherworldly relief. That was when the alert charm made her wand start buzzing.

She was inclined, at first, to ignore it, or simply turn the alarm off – however, the buzzing grew in intensity till the wand was rattling on the flagstones, so Ginny hauled herself out of the water and lunged for her book bag. Where were… "Ah," she murmured, hand closing on the fleshy tube.

She tugged out the Extendable Ear, lobbing the ear end at the door. Obediently, it tucked itself under the lintel, and shivering, she slipped back into the hot water before putting the listening end to her ear.

"-ck yourself," suggested the lazy voice of Blaise Zabini.

"No," whined Draco's voice, "I'd rather fuck you, since our Miss Weasley is clearly not in a mood to be found."

Their voices had very audibly been drawing nearer and nearer. "Do you think…?" Blaise said speculatively, and Ginny's heart leapt into her throat. She was struck with a vision of him standing outside the door, fingering his wand, about to burst in at any second – reflexively, she sank lower in the water, right up to her chin, but kept listening.

"We don't have passwords for other Houses' prefect baths," Draco sulked, "So it's no use if she is."

"Just as well," Blaise said, and for an irritated instant, she thought he _wasn't_ interested in springing in on her in the nude, and was offended, but he went on: "Can you imagine if Snape gave someone like Nott or Danver those passwords?"

"Ugh, or Goyle," Draco said with a near palpable shudder. Ginny _did_ shudder – since being named to the rank of prefect, a rank now for all practical purposes basically equivalent to the Inquisitorial Squad all over again, Goyle had been intolerable. "I don't even trust him sleeping in the same dungeon as our own Slytherins – I put charms on his door to make sure he sleeps all night, _alone_."

Ginny shivered again, prickles of fear going up her spine at the thought of the malicious, hulking Slytherin ever taking the kind of interest in her that Blaise and Draco had.

"Well, anyway, we're shit out of luck. She's probably up in Gryffindor tower, and unless we go days on end without a sight of the lovely crumpet, we don't want to risk going after her there. Let's just hope if we ever do want to join her for a shower, she's using the regular hall bathrooms, right?" Blaise said wickedly. The boys' voices were dying away slightly, as they strolled past the door.

"Steamy, wouldn't it be?" Draco murmured to his boyfriend, nearly inaudibly.

The response came as a purr – "Oh, undoubtedly. Want to whisk me off to your room and tell me about it?" Blaise asked, and their voices trailed off completely.

Ginny let the Extendable Ear drop from her hand, and sank back into the water up to her chin. Well. That settled the question of where _she_ was bathing the rest of the year. The only really worrisome thing was that she was likely to end up wasting quite a bit of time with her new favorite experiment, the water jets – which after that last snippet of conversation, the heated murmurs that sent an entirely different sort of tingle up her spine, were needed more than ever.

* * *

Ginny was roaming down to the kitchens for a snack, cutting it rather too close to curfew, but she'd been immersed in writing up her Potions lab, and now she really, really needed some hot chocolate.

She rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs leading to Gryffindor tower, and nearly jumped back to hide when she saw, robes swooshing out behind him in his haste, Draco, intently stalking up the corridor towards her. Then common sense overrode her instinctive "oh fuck, a prefect," fear, realizing that he was simply on rounds, and certainly not one to tell her off for being out of her Common Room.

Showed what she knew – as she strode down the hall towards him, he barked out, "Weasley. Well. Thanks for making this easy, at least." In two steps he was at her side, hand around her forearm, tugging her in completely the opposite direction of the kitchens.

"Dammit, Draco," she complained, wriggling and trying to break his grip, "I want hot chocolate."

In a tone pitched almost inaudible, he whispered in her ear, "It'll have to wait, Fairest-of-Them-All. The Headmaster's orders come first.

Ginny's stomach sank. "Snape? Shit… but I haven't done anything," –_ lately_, her conscience added.

"I can't help you," he murmured, "don't know a thing about it, but I think you'll get out of it safely – McGonagall will be there too." Then they came to the Headmaster's corridor, and in a normal tone of voice he started reading her the riot act.

His impression of a priggish Death Eater's brat didn't extend so far as dumping her off at the Headmaster's door to wait anxiously, though – he stood with her at the top of the stairs, a hand clenched around her wrist like he was expecting her to make a break for it, but his other hand, behind her back, rubbed her lightly, comfortingly, and his fingers on the underside of her wrist traced soothing patterns.

Then the door swung open and with a growl, he shoved her roughly through. "Got her for you, sir," he said in a arse-kissing tone, hauling her over to the empty seat beside Professor McGonagall, and standing at her side proud as a hound fetching some rodent.

"Thank you, Draco," Snape said dismissively, not that Draco took the hint. He continued standing there for another moment as Snape directed a scathing look in his direction, finally saying cuttingly, "If you'll excuse us now, Draco – I assure you, the business of the school _can_ go on without you."

Ginny stared at her hands as Draco left. The second the door swung shut, Snape leaned forwards – she watched him nervously from behind her fringe – and rumbled, "Now. One of you has a good deal of explaining to do to me. To each other, as well, for that matter, because I'm fairly sure one of you has lied to the other."

Now Ginny was completely at a loss, and quite petrified, since she had no idea what lie she might have told McGonagall that would be serious enough to land her here.

"Since you're both only going to sit there wearing gormless expressions," Snape continued in a biting tone, "I shall set this lie out in the open. One of you claimed, falsely, that she had received intelligence from one erstwhile Mr. Potter. I suspect it was Miss Weasley, who then convinced a professor who wanted to believe and trust her of her honesty in the matter, and you, Minerva, then spread this cock-and-bull story to the rest of your equally trusting students, none of you pausing for a moment to consider the fact that all owls are of course read on entry to this institution. Must safeguard the all-too-gullible children, naturally."

Ginny's first instinct was the one that Harry himself would have seized on – a conspiracy, to silence them! Claiming that there was no message from 'Undesirable Number One,' because they detested the hope and faith it gave the Light students!

But another part of Ginny's mind was taking apart the scenario Snape was describing – clearly, he had it wrong, as she'd neither received a message from Potter nor told McGonagall that she had. But as _Snape_ would have it, that meant Professor McGonagall had made up the entire thing, presumably to inspire her students… with a blinding flash of certainty, Ginny realized that this was in fact what had happened, if what Snape said about owls was true.

And sure enough, Professor McGonagall, a true Gryffindor now even if she'd employed rather debatable methods earlier, leapt straight to the core of the truth. "I made it up, seeing how low my House's morale was. I wanted them to hear a message that Gryffindor values were still, well, values, that things were going to be alright, and I knew it would be easiest putting those words into the mouth of a boy they respected who was conveniently absent."

Neither Ginny nor, she thought, Snape himself believed that McGonagall had gone about it anywhere near so coldly and calculatingly. She scrutinized her teacher, much preferring to try and figure out the layers of truth than confront the Big Lie that she had bought hook line and sinker. That, of course, would entail reconsidering what she'd done the night of 'Harry's' letter, and Ginny really, really didn't want to reconsider that.

McGonagall, though, looked old and worn and sad, and it hurt to study her, so Ginny focused her gaze around the office, looking anywhere but at her Headmaster – or her old Headmaster's portrait, a painful sight. And that was how her gaze lit on it. It figured in some of her worst memories from the end of her childhood – she remembered that blood-red ruby as clearly as she remembered the rooster's blood on her hands.

But the sword of Gryffindor also figured in more recent memories, memories of her ex's inheritance from Dumbledore, and the part of it that had been denied. Dumbledore had wanted Harry to have it before he set off on his mission – and now _Snape_ had it – the glittering silver swam before her eyes for a moment.

Snape's sharp, cutting tones broke through her preoccupation. "Ah, and here I suspected a _student_ of being a sniveling little liar. How truly sad to see the rot goes so much deeper. Professor McGonagall, I really don't know what to do about this – the term the Ministry would apply here, I fear, would be 'offering aid and comfort to the enemy.'"

"The enemy?!" McGonagall queried in a strident tone – "Severus, we are talking about comforting _children_! Certainly I shouldn't have done it, but…"

Studiously not looking at Ginny, Snape mused, "Ah, but Gryffindor House's students are known for their, shall we say, unsavory ties. Certainly the Ministry's view will be that this message may well have been intended, in fact, for the ears of certain students' parents… they will want to investigate further, I'd guess… and they may start asking if perhaps, the unsavory ties of such young students mightn't be prevented with a different role model…" His tone was laced with menace, and with his last threat, Ginny was thrown into a panic – where would Gryffindor be without their Head to buffer them from the Death Eaters' authority?

And that was how the words spilled from her lips: "She's not lying. Or rather, she wasn't then, she didn't think, but she is now. To protect me."

McGonagall tried to talk over her, and Snape just stared, frozen, at her, eyes hooded, probably in disbelief. Ginny resolutely plunged on. "It was almost like wishful thinking – I wanted to hear from them, I knew everyone else did, I knew it would reflect some attention back on me, as his old girlfriend, so I went to Professor McGonagall after class and told her about an owl I'd gotten – I didn't know about the mail-reading, neither did she I guess, because she got so excited, and asked me for the letter, if I would mind her reading it to everyone – I was going to do that myself anyways, and I figured it just made it all the better to have a teacher reading it – more believable, you know. And that's how it happened, and Professor McGonagall is just trying to protect me and keep me out of trouble, because she's nice like that, and that's the same reason she was so ready to believe me."

As the coup de grace she faced Professor McGonagall, saying humbly, "I'm sorry for misleading you, Professor, it was quite wrong of me."

Her professor was still sputtering, trying to deny Ginny's 'confession,' but her speech had done the trick, completely negating any attempt to contradict it. Snape was watching her with black eyes and a black expression. "A shameless little liar, aren't you?" he said in a soft, dangerous tone, which rather made Ginny think he saw through her story but was quite willing to punish her if she'd like.

McGonagall tried to recover the initiative – "Miss Weasley – so shameful – detention, with me, the next two months straight –"

"Oh no," Snape cut in smoothly, "that won't do at all. Spreading treasonous messages, in wartime? If it weren't for her youth and naïveté I'd be half-considering sending her to Umbridge's inquisition. As it is, she has been unusually well-behaved this year. I think… we shall let her off lightly, given her crimes – one weekend's suspension." He leveled her a cruel look. "During the next Gryffindor Quidditch match."

McGonagall made a pained noise, then, as a thought struck her, pointed out – "So we'll need the Head Boy to be free that weekend. It _is_ in the regulations that his duties include supervising student suspensions."

"Ah-ah," crooned Snape, "I don't think so – I've seen, as, evidently, you have as well, that our Head Boy has a curious infatuation with Miss Weasley – no, it'll have to be Mr. Malfoy. And just to drive home the point, detention with Professor Amycus Carrow from Wednesday to Friday – I happen to know he will be available those nights."

Ginny made a big show of gulping fearfully at the names Malfoy and Carrow, though in truth, all her fear and anxieties revolved around what McGonagall would say to her when they were alone, and what her team would feel when they heard the price they'd pay, and how she was letting them down. Draco scared her not at all, and given she wasn't a constant offender like Neville, she doubted Carrow would be too awful. She stared at the sword, in a trance, as they hashed out the rest of the details of the fall-out of the Harry Potter letter.

* * *

_A.N. - Now I know you're all thinking: YES! A detention scene! Hot sex will surely ensue! C'mon. Would I be so cliche? Heheh. Hot sex will ensue eventually though. I promise._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_From the goals and priorities of Severus Snape:_

_Keep in power Professors McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick.  
__Avoid singling out any one student for the Carrows' attentions.  
__Try to shelter the students as much as possible from changes inside and outside Hogwarts.  
__If possible, keep true affiliation secret, but _never again_ at the expense of someone's life._

* * *

"So." Blaise swung around the corner, and Ginny nearly went tumbling into his arms, she was so taken by surprise.

Draco followed right on his boyfriend's heels, literally, nearly tripping, and figuratively, in taking up what sounded like another session of Slytherin smugness. "What's this we hear about a Gryffindor getting herself a suspension? And conveniently needing _my_ personal supervision?"

Gin scrubbed at her face with the heels of her palms. "Can we _not_?" she moaned.

"Well, fairest-of-them-all, your knights in shining armor can't make it better unless we hear exactly what you did to make Snape so frustrated and furious."

She peeked around her hand – "Frustrated? Really?" She puzzled over that one for a moment. "I suppose it was just because he couldn't fire McGonagall like he wanted."

"_Fire_ the Lioness?" Blaise marveled. "Just what the hell were you up to, fota?"

She blinked, unsure she'd heard right. "Did you just call me… photo?"

"FOTA," Blaise clarified unhelpfully.

Draco elaborated: "Fairest Of Them All. We got tired of the longer version, decided to make it short and punchy."

Ginny favored him with an incredulous look of much abused patience. "Right. Well, yeah, so I'm suspended – specifically for this weekend, too."

Blaise still wore an incurious look of general dismay, but Draco's face fell in compassion. "The Ravenclaw match – oh, how vile of him."

Ginny's expression was pained as she nodded miserably.

Blaise, though, wore his usual cheerful grin. "Oh, is that all? We'll fix up this problem, kids, don't fear."

Draco's face acquired a slow grin as he studied his boyfriend. Ginny's heart leapt as the two started smirking. "You couldn't possibly be planning to get me to play anyway…" she asked slowly. The smirks widened.

* * *

From his high box, Severus brooded over the Quidditch pitch. A demoralized Gryffindor section of the stands was pointedly sitting facing away from his direction – fantastic. Outward displays of insubordination – just what he was trying to _curb_ with his threat to McGonagall about involving the Ministry, or replacing her.

Now, McGonagall was perfectly safe, securely positioned to fight off the predations of the Carrows, but that damned-fool martyr of a schoolgirl was in the middle of quite the mess of problems, now that she'd finally come to the attention of his 'disciplinarians.' He supposed, though, that he should just thank his lucky stars Weasley hadn't been bucking authority all year, as poor Longbottom had been. And speaking of the devil… where in hell _was_ that boy?

He scanned the crowd for bumbling figures – he spotted a hint of motion that cried out 'Longbottom' to him but – no – it was Ginny, with Draco performing his guard duties. Technically he wasn't supposed to be letting her out of the castle, much less letting her attend a Quidditch game, but it appeared Snape's hunch was playing out – the Malfoy boy, too, seemed enchanted by the girl, incredible as it seemed. He was glad, at least, in this instance – she would at least get to see the game. But… the way she moved was still bothering him, and – was she holding hands with Lovegood? Granted, the two were friends, but the only one he'd seen Lovegood hold hands with lately was… Longbottom…

He scanned the air quickly, trying to spot the Gryffindor Chasers and cursing his complete lack of aptitude for this game – even tracking the Chasers was nearly impossible for his feeble Quidditch abilities. Finally he singled three figures out of the darting, swooping swarm – none of them was a red-headed girl, but then, if Malfoy was using one illusion, why not a second – _there_. They'd been clever – swapping out Weasley's secondhand broom for Malfoy's racing broom, to completely sever any connection in a watcher's mind to a dirt-poor Weasley, but to a spy like Severus, Longbottom-as-Weasley's movements, posture, body language, were all-too-obvious tells. And that defiant tilt of the (apparently male) Chaser's chin was classic Weasley.

Snape settled back into his chair, amused, and spent the majority of the game watching Malfoy and Longbottom-as-Weasley's entirely realistic squabbling.

* * *

"Right. You've no more Quidditch games for a month and a half, and I even went along with your mad plan to wear an illusion and make nice to Malfoy for your sake, just so you could play a bloody game – I'm still sending back my robes to the house-elves over and over to get the Death Eater germs off them –"

"He's not a –"

"Don't even try to stick up for him, Ginny – he may think you're a lark but that doesn't mean he wouldn't kill your ex-boyfriend in a heartbeat." Neville was affecting a patronizing tone, looking down his nose at her even though he was two inches shorter.

Ginny seethed, highly doubting Draco would kill anyone or anything. He hadn't even killed Dumbledore when the man was already dying. She was hardly going to mention Dumbledore's murder to her already over-wrought friend, though. And Neville charged on: "So. You say Snape has the magical sword Harry summoned when he rescued y- er, when he killed the… um, that he summoned in his second year, and that he was supposed to be given this summer to help his quest?"

"Yes," she said, glad they were finally on track and not talking about anything as tricky as Draco, or basilisks.

"And they check the incoming mail, you say. He only said incoming?"

"Yeah," she confirmed for the third time.

"They'd hardly care what children send in their mail," Luna backed Ginny up, looking up from the whorls she was tracing on the back of Neville's hand for the first time.

"Right," mused Neville, "So as long as we put a few easy spells to keep anyone from wondering about the size of the package, we could send the sword off without any problem, provided we're quick about it."

"Er, isn't there the issue of _getting_ the sword first? Did you miss the part where I said it was hanging in our Death Eater Headmaster's office?"

"Oh," Luna said in an airy, dismissive way, "we talked over that already, we sorted out an infiltration plan before you showed up."

"Oh," Ginny echoed faintly. "Oh, well… okay then."

* * *

Ginny was, it turned out on further examination, not at all 'okay' with Luna and Neville's plan. "We're going to get caught," she told them seriously, urgently, and they only shrugged.

"So we'll be punished. It's not new," Neville said in the tone of an experienced, world-weary warrior.

"Well fuck you very much, too," Ginny muttered after one such argument that weekend, kicking a suit of armor lightly as she stalked back to the library to finish a Charms project. "It's not like there's anything at risk – like, say, my Captaincy." She'd been keenly aware of how the DA could jeopardize her Quidditch team, and while she was more than happy to risk it in defense of the only teacher who could defend _them_, a half-assed plan to steal Snape's sword was a stretch. She'd hate to lose not only her team, but even the safety of the Prefects' bathrooms, because Neville was overconfident. She still remembered that conversation of Blaise and Draco's she'd heard, about how they'd be after her in a shot if she was in the hall showers…

At least her parents had been quite thrilled with her suspension – "We've never been prouder," McGonagall relayed the message from them. McGonagall herself was still less than pleased, but couldn't find it in herself to rebuke the student who had so loyally defended her. Especially since Ginny's 'absence' hadn't harmed the team's standings, as the 'substitute' had scored several goals, letting Gryffindor hold their own against a strong Ravenclaw side till the Snitch was caught by Nicholas.

* * *

She was deeply immersed in her Charms project – due in two days, and unquestionably something she should have been working on rather than practicing Quidditch all last week – when Blaise appeared.

"God. Always with the library thing…" he said, casting a withering glare around him. "How can you breathe in here? The air's all choked up by…" he coughed and wheezed theatrically, "_books…_"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "What can I do for you, Blaise?" Hastily, she added – "Non-sexually, mind."

He pouted at that condition, but still marveled, "So eager to please, FOTA. How is it that you're so mellow?"

"Oh, I'm not mellow in the slightest," she said in an over-bright tone. "I just figure that the sooner I found out what you want, the sooner I can deal with you and get back to the things swamping me."

"Ah…" he said, looking uneasy. "Well, it's not what you can do for me, exactly… and too bad about the whole being swamped thing, that, uh, might make this a less-than-convenient issue…"

Ginny pinned him with a no-nonsense stare. "What is it?" she asked flatly.

"You know how Draco wanted a present for his mother, well he mentioned last night that her birthday's in – uh – two days and so he was hoping you would be so good as to hop-to-and-have-him-something-to-postbynoontomorrow." As Ginny's expression grew more and more ominous, Blaise blurted out the words faster and faster.

"He wants _what?_" she asked in an icy hiss that nearly matched Draco's coldest Malfoy tones.

"But it's ok! Really! Because I know what you can do for it!" Blaise added hastily, though to be safe he took a step or two away from the enraged redhead.

"Oh, _really_," Ginny said, dripping disbelief.

"Oh, really," he assured her happily, then surveyed her crowded desk. "But I see you're quite preoccupied. Why don't I just help you with – what is it, Charms? – and then explain tomorrow, when we go down to the forest? You've got a free period after Potions on Mondays, right?"

She glared at him briefly. "You probably would know my schedule better than me, I'm sure," she pouted, alluding to the Slytherin watch detail that was always keeping an eye on her. But she hooked a chair with her foot to pull it closer, letting Blaise settle in and advise her on the best charms to try in conjunction to create what the Muggles called 'special effects.'

* * *

He was just as thoughtful the next morning when he cornered her outside the dungeons. "Brought you a muffin from the kitchens," he said, offering her – what else, a chocolate chocolate-chip muffin. "Figured you probably skipped breakfast to get that fog spell right."

She nodded ruefully, stomach growling as she accepted the muffin, and they headed out into the woods.

"... So the Blacks have always been obsessed with stars – and Narcissa especially, since unlike every other person in her family, she doesn't have a celestial name. Which is why I think a shadowbox with a flower-shaped constellation would be brill."

"And you said you have a really good idea for a natural source of glittery objects," Ginny pushed him, skeptically. They had already found a beautiful sliver of mica, but it wouldn't do for stars. But Blaise nodded enthusiastically, leading her ever deeper into the woods.

It turned out to be a bubbling stream that he was leading her to – an idyllic bank that she wouldn't have guessed coursed through the Dark Forest. "Oh, this is gorgeous, Blaise, when did you find this?" she gushed over the springy-soft grassy banks and the quiet, shaded creek burbling and chuckling under a venerable old willow tree.

"You remember before the Hufflepuff match?" he asked, a glint entering his eyes.

She squinted with the effort of figuring out what he was referring to – "OH. When you and Draco were off in the woods having…" she turned crimson, and surveyed the meadow anew. "Um. Right. So – stars?"

Blaise twirled his wand theatrically, and a pile of bubbly foam that was clinging to a rock where the stream was bumpier obediently floated on over to them through the air. He swiped a finger through, collecting a small clot of bubbles – just about the right size to represent a pinpoint of starlight, and the bubbles caught the light rather perfectly for the job. "And that stasis spell I use on the leaves will keep the bubbles around permanently, too?" she said dubiously.

"It will if you strengthen it first," Blaise told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder in order to hold her wand hand in his. "You want a slightly more forceful twist – there – and you want the emphasis on the last syllable in each word."

She summoned another handful of froth and cast, then tentatively poked the mass – not a bubble popped under her finger. "You're so brilliant I could kiss you, Blaise!" she squealed, thrilled both at the new material to play with and the prospect of charging Draco through the roof for what was turning out to be rather an easy 'rush job.'

"Alright," he replied amicably, and leaned in to peck her on the lips.

When he moved away again, she tried to pretend she hadn't kissed him back, and tolerant as always, he cooperated, swinging a stick he'd found lazily and asking if she was quite done with her nature ramble for the morning, or did she plan on skipping History of Magic?

She was grateful for his casual attitude – she'd been terrified that having kissed the boys once, they'd snatch her up and think she was theirs, and redouble their efforts to get in her knickers, maybe even act like they were owed it, the way Michael had when they'd snogged. But when they'd heard the story of Ginny's lie to protect McGonagall, they had realized just which night the 'Harry Potter letter' incident had transpired, and what that meant regarding their activities later that same night, and so they'd accepted that Ginny wasn't exactly in her right mind at the time.

Still, Ginny felt the need to act as though she weren't running away from Blaise, so she announced her intention to test Binns' ability to tell the difference between an empty and an occupied seat, and got comfortable under the willow tree.

She was intently studying a fresh swathe of foam, having stored away various lumps in her satchel. Now, she was trying to imbue the bubbles with a spell that would make them glow even without light – she sat crosslegged under the tree, frowning intently.

_Splat._

She yelped, looking up through suddenly wet bangs, and with a zing, another clod of bubbles collided with her nose. Blaise cackled. "Sorry, sorry – you just looked so out to lunch, I couldn't resist."

She glared at him – an effect ruined somewhat as her now cold and wet nose twitched wildly in an attempt not to sneeze. He laughed even harder. "You. Will. Pay," she ground out, and with a quick spell turned the bubbles in her hands a vivid, outrageous pink before launching them at the audacious Head Boy.

* * *

And he did – right there and then, as well as later, when his absurdly pink-splotched black hair served to distract Draco from the piece of parchment he bore from Ginny with her bill for an 'extravagant rush job,' a figure in Sickles, but with rather a lot of zeros after it.

Draco was howling so hard with laughter at the sight of Blaise's head he barely read the invoice, but he paid strict attention to the masterful, black-painted box Ginny had created for him. Inlaid with a carefully shaped sliver of the mica to represent the moon, wisps of dandelion fluff created a border of clouds, and meticulously charmed bubbles created an easily recognizable daffodil-constellation.

Draco's mother, five days later, sent him the largest care package he'd ever received in seven years at Hogwarts, for which he insisted on giving Ginny a kiss. She oh-so-patiently put up with this horrid imposition, those silky, skilled lips on hers, and after she thought she could speak without quavering, told him he'd have done a good sight better to offer her the chocolate in his care package, instead.

* * *

Wednesday night came around all too soon. She'd thought her suspension during the Quidditch game, with Draco, would be the most awful aspect of her punishment for 'lying,' until she showed up for her detentions with Professor Carrow. Amycus Carrow was smirking at her uncomfortably the moment she entered the room. She took her indicated seat with a shiver, but even though she was obediently sitting, Carrow came over to stand at her desk, looming over her despite being rather short. His foul leer didn't help either, so it was almost a relief when he started taunting her – better verbal abuse, than anything else she'd imagined. "So. Lying to the only person in this entire benighted castle who gives a flying toss about you. Clever. Guess that explains the Weasley reputation for brains."

Ginny stared dully at the chalkboard, perfectly secure in her own innocence and in the fact that neither she nor her family were idiots, and let him wax on in that vein for a fair amount of time.

But then he delved into different territory. "So. I understand you dated the little monster you lied about, too. How sad. You must have been quite the gullible little bint to buy into his nonsense… maybe that's the reason you're a pathological liar. And… slut to Undesirable Number One? How undesirable does that make _you_?"

Ginny's idle, distracted thoughts ground to a halt, as she gaped, shocked, at the Professor. "Such a shame. Perfectly good blood run to seed, till you're lifting your skirts for the filthiest trash you can find."

_Right, that does it,_ the Weasley Temper decided. Without conscious thought, Ginny's wand hand and mouth moved in choreography – "Stupefy!"

Amycus fell face first into the desk in front of Ginny. "Fuck…" Ginny murmured oh-so-quietly after a moment.

_

* * *

_

Thud!

They looked at each other for only an instant before bolting around the corner.

Then they skidded to a halt in the doorway of the classroom – it was as bad as they could've imagined.

"For fuck's sake, Fairest of Them All," Blaise said slowly, crossing muscular arms, leaning in a self-conscious pose in the doorframe. Draco let out a low, astonished whistle. "When you go to do a thing, you do it right…"

"We were only about half a second from coming in and breaking up that scene, too, you know," Draco added. Ginny, tears only then starting to well up in the aftermath of it all – both the shock of being termed a slut, and the horror of 'OhmygodI'llbeexpelled' – only stared helplessly at him with chin trembling and eyes wide.

"Hmm. No protests of 'Well how in hell was I supposed to know that?' from you, Fairest? This is serious. Here, Draco, go get her changed, I'll take care of this… I'm Head Boy, after all, right? Might as well live up to my responsibilities." Even though Ginny seemed completely shell-shocked, and barely aware that Draco was guiding her by the elbow out of the classroom, she retained enough consciousness for a snort of healthy skepticism at the idea of Blaise living up to anything vaguely related to duty.

This time it was a brunette Ravenclaw girl who escorted Ginny through the Fat Lady, and up to her dormitory – if her brain had been functioning properly Ginny might have taken a poke at Draco's sensitive male pride, but she couldn't come up with anything useful. And anyway, she'd donned the illusion of a boy to play in the Quidditch match – she really had no place mocking Draco.

She was at least thinking clearly enough to duck into the hall loo to change when Draco shoved clothes in her hands – and to be surprised at his choice of a dress and shoes, and indignant that he'd plucked from her armoire one of her two thongs. She contemplated screaming at him for that, but reasoned that she couldn't wear a dress with regular knickers – it wouldn't do to show panty lines, after all.

It was only when they met up with Blaise in the Entrance Hall, the brawny boy giving them winks and flashing 'ok' hand signals to assure them that Carrow was somehow taken care of, that the lightning-fast series of events began to register in Ginny's dazed mind and provoke questions, such as, "What's going on?" or "Where are we going?" or "What will I tell my parents when I'm expelled?" or "Why am I in the slinkiest dress I own?"

But by that time the boys had already bustled her outside, into a waiting carriage, and they were rolling off soundlessly into the dark, the faint noises of the horse pulling them muffled in a light rain and by the velvet curtain Draco drew across the window.

_

* * *

_

A.N. - Oh, silly Slytherins. Always doing something new and unpredictable. Told you it wouldn't be a classic detention set-up! :-) Also, see my profile page for a really cool link, courtesy of Leali Black!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_From correspondence between Professor Snape and the MoM:_

_Your information is correct, sir – Head Boy Zabini discovered that Amycus Carrow, during a detention with a blood traitor, was passed out cold, apparently with a shrunken-down Carry-All Flask palmed in his fist. The blood traitor was secured by Zabini, a quick-thinking Slytherin, but Carrow, on being questioned, exhibited a shifty uncertainty about his own actions such as would result from a memory charm… or a significant quantity of alcohol.  
__Such actions reflect extremely poorly on the ethos we are trying to impart to exactly those kinds of students – as such, it is regretfully my decision to second your edict that an inquiry must be held. Steps presently enacted include, 1, the supervision of Amycus Carrow in classes, 2, his monitoring by prefects _not _of Slytherin House, particularly during meal-times, and 3, shifting responsibility for all detentions assigned with Amycus Carrow to the student's Head of House for the time being…_

_From Neville's Sword Stealing Plan:_

_distract any patrols via Decoy Detonators.  
__dismantle any warding spells with Security Snappers.  
__use Filch's keys on the gargoyle's base to sidestep the password protection.  
__use IncarcerTraps on anyone who tries to stop us._

* * *

Until the carriage came to a halt, Ginny Weasley was satisfied just to sit, mind numb and body quite happy to be squashed between two delicious specimens of Slytherins. Oddly, being jostled by Draco's lithe body or Blaise's well-defined form was surprisingly comfortable.

When the carriage door swung open, though, and she caught a glimpse of where they were, she gaped, and balked. "No," she muttered under her breath, and as Draco tugged her hand, she reared back, repeating, "No – oh no, you don't…"

"Ah-ah-ah," Blaise murmured in her ear, a hand on her back, urging her out of the carriage. "Remember what we just did for you…"

Resentfully, she snarled, "So much for my silly, naïve idea that you were doing me a _favor_."

"We were – we're _still_ doing you a favor, or trying to anyway, Fairest – it's just that we know we have to twist your arm a little to accept it," Draco tried, in a soothing tone.

She huffed, "It's a big difference between 'twisting my arm' and blackmail – and a big difference between 'doing a favor' and taking me out to a notorious, expensive restaurant in Glasgow. I really, really don't think students are allowed to wander into Glasgow," she added parenthetically.

But since she'd spent far too much of the carriage ride pondering other things students weren't allowed to do, such as attack teachers who happened to be Death Eaters, she wasn't going to push the issue. As long as Blaise had somehow contrived to keep Carrow from expelling her – or siccing Voldemort on her – she would do what they asked of her. Although Merlin knew she wasn't going to be happy about it.

In that spirit, Ginny hopped down, disdainfully ignoring Draco's attempt to extend a chivalrous helping hand. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and faced down the Kama Sutra, a glam, wizard-owned restaurant featured in last month's _Prophet_.

* * *

On entering, Ginny's hackles were only raised further.

"Zabini, party of three," Blaise stated confidently to the maitre'd, and received a cold stare in return.

"Mister Zabini, is it? Your reservation was for nine, and it is presently only seven."

"Not _my_ fault someone sped up their detention considerably…" Ginny started to snarl at him, more and more steamed as she realized how well-laid the boys' plans had been.

Draco hastily broke in – "We're sorry about that change in plans – it does look like you have some open tables, though?" he prodded hopefully, leaning round the stern bloke a bit to scan the restaurant.

"We are very strict about our reservations policy, _sir_," the maitre'd huffed disparagingly.

In the end it took Draco slipping him several wads of pounds – the judgmental man's eyebrows raised all the more at the fact that this well-to-do young man only carried fivers – to get them a table. Ginny's towering temper was mollified somewhat by the amusement of watching things go wrong for the two show-offs.

It was mollified further by their over-the-top generous treatment of her throughout the meal – though she felt increasingly uncomfortable with all the attention. The booths all around the restaurant were extremely secluded and intimate, and flickering candles meant that grey and blue eyes, fixed intently on her, glimmered at her from across the table.

With all the scrutiny, and all the lengths the Kama Sutra went to promote a sensual atmosphere (she had to give herself a mental slap every time she found her eyes straying to the art on the walls,) it was hard for Ginny not to feel dirty every time her lips closed around the straw of her drink to suck, or she had to lick a splash of sauce from her lips. Given the expressions of her dates, she knew full well how they were receiving those actions.

Draco seemed to think she might be in doubt, though – he scooted round the booth slightly to be next to her, rather than across from her, and slung an arm around her, leaning in to whisper – "You look astonishing sexy in that dress."

She blushed furiously, grinning a bit, as he grasped her hand with his free one, kissing it gently. Then he placed it in his lap. "See?" he said, teasingly.

Shocked, she snatched her hand back from the large bulge in his lap. "I just checked – Blaise's is even worse," he told her, before hastily sliding back to his boyfriend's side before Ginny could recover.

She didn't really recover at all, just sat, flushed, as Blaise finished his chicken tandoori, Draco finished his cheese and mushroom dish – she was starting to think he was a vegetarian - and they ordered after-dinner drinks. She sipped a fragrant Earl Grey tea – thinking of the interesting contrast her present company made with Hermione's lovely afternoon teas – and the boys had a whiskey on the rocks each. They looked devastatingly sophisticated and elegant, sipping the fiery liquid – Ginny would have felt hopelessly mundane and unfashionable, if she hadn't had the memory of Draco's very blunt assessment as reassurance.

Then, tab paid, they swept her off down the street and forever earned her respect by turning up a tiny Italian ice-cream shop, and buying her chocolate gelato. The sinfully rich, chilly treat was the exactly perfect thing after a spicy Indian meal, and they strolled through a park as they ate, showing a surprising appreciation of nature. (Rolling around tumbling each other in the grass, Ginny thought, hardly counted – and then she instantly regretted that thought and its accompanying surge of envious desire.)

They found a fountain in the middle of the park, and Blaise hopped onto the lip of it as he had the fountain in Hogsmeade, relaxing, while Draco snugged his arms around Ginny, shivering after eating ice-cream in the wintery air. "Such a lovely picture," Blaise said in an almost reverent tone, his eyes studying both of them intently, and pleasing Ginny's envious side nicely.

"Such a lovely picture deserves only the loveliest accessories, right, Blaise?" Draco answered.

Blaise's smile made his eyes sparkle mischievously, and he tossed something small and dark at Draco and Ginny. Draco grabbed it deftly before Ginny could – a small competitive flare of annoyance surged through her, but then with one hand Draco was flipping open the thin dark box, his other hand curling around Ginny's wrist.

"Take this lovely, milky-white, soft wrist," he murmured, kissing it. "We had to search for quite a while to find a worthy decoration." He drew a glittering tennis-bracelet out of the box – the stones set around it glimmered palely in their silver settings, and Ginny couldn't help sighing in admiration. Nimbly, he draped it over her wrist and secured the clasp – it burned warmly against her skin for a moment, then went cool.

"It's magic?" she gasped.

"Of course," he said, nearly scornfully. Ginny, never having gotten jewelry of any kind from a boy, had hardly devoted any thought to the unlikelihood of a pureblood buying commonplace, non-magical presents.

"What does it do?" she asked, before remembering her manners – "_Thank you_," she gushed, pleased, embarrassed, and extremely flattered.

Blaise hopped off the fountain's edge, stepping up to face her, sliding a hand around her back, pressed up against Draco's chest. "You're quite welcome, Fairest," he said, and leaned in for a kiss.

Their kisses were incredible enough as it was – but with the flood of emotion she was immersed in, and, more to the point, pressed between their two bodies like this, Ginny thought she might drown. Draco's hands were spread on her hips, pulling her against him so she felt his bulge of desire again from a new perspective, and his breath was hot on her neck as his boyfriend's tongue clashed with Ginny's. Blaise's hard length was against her leg, lending her kisses for him an even deeper, more wanton quality.

After a moment, she drew back, and with amused smirks the boys eased up, so she could turn and thank Draco as well. Now Blaise's length was crushed against her rear, and Draco's was prodding her inner thigh as intently as his tongue searched her mouth. Blaise swept her hair to the side and kissed her bared neck and shoulders – a hard suck, with teeth, from his mouth drew a squeak from hers and he concentrated his attack there, ferociously, until she moaned quietly into Draco's mouth, Blaise's long nails working through her hair the whole time.

When another delicate spot on her neck drew a slightly louder moan, the boys broke apart, business-like. "We need to bundle you off into the carriage," Draco said hoarsely, looking around the darkened park with a sheepish expression – public displays of affection, Ginny had noticed, were not quite his style.

But Blaise, who was Mr. PDA himself, seconded it – "Oh, indeed." Judging by his wicked smile, he anticipated quite an exceptional carriage ride home – as they waited on a street corner for the carriage to return, Ginny worked furiously to pull herself together. What had Carrow called her? A slut, lifting her skirt for trash? That's just what people whose opinions she actually _cared_ about would say if she got carried away with Draco and Blaise. God, especially since they were talking about Draco _and_ Blaise.

* * *

So it was a subdued snog back to the castle – Ginny happily kissed both boys, and, most interestingly, watched them kiss each other. But as much as that sight got her blood up, she refused to sit in either boy's lap, and warily batted away hands straying to her chest. It was hard to relax and enjoy their kisses when she was battling not only their urges to do more but her own, and as much a rush as the journey was, she was glad when they came to a halt and Blaise hopped out and lent her a hand. Draco pouted that he hadn't gotten the chance to perform that service, and so insisted on walking her back, since they shouldn't _both_ do it.

Sure enough, they were stopped by Sprout, looking outraged as Draco 'dragged' her down the hall, but Draco said he was escorting her back from a long detention with the Carrows. That hardly made Sprout any more pleased, but it also meant they went on their merry way with no more questions.

When he stopped off outside Gryffindor's portrait hole, he gave her a pert, ingratiating smile and a goodbye kiss that made her nerves sing again. "Now, don't you wish you could have detention with a Carrow every night?"

She shivered – "I don't think I'd be able to survive night after night of this…" she told him, biting her lip.

He looked pleased at the admission of how affected she was by him and his boyfriend. "Here – from Blaise –" he gave her another lingering kiss, then a light tap on the bum towards the portrait. "Get to bed, and stay out of trouble this time, won't you?"

* * *

Blaise and Draco ran into Ginny intermittently the following week, when she wasn't serving the rest of her sentence of detentions – with McGonagall, now, inexplicably. When they saw her, their eyes always flicked straight to her wrist, and they'd grin at the sight of her bracelet. They were light and easy around her, feeling like they'd accomplished quite a bit in getting her to accept a date and a present. So, when they could find her, usually at the library, they uncomplainingly pulled up chairs and did their homework as well, mostly well-behaved.

Alright, they did race Chocolate Frogs, but they let Ginny eat both winners and losers. And though they did crack jokes – "Wow, Dray, we're probably the first students in the history of Hogwarts whose grades _improve_ because of an infatuation with a girl," – she laughed too, so she could hardly complain when they inevitably drew Madam Pince's ire.

They probably, Ginny supposed, would have felt a lot less easy if they knew that Ginny wasn't following their advice to stay out of trouble in the least.

* * *

Strapping jury-rigged packets of her twin brothers' products to her seemed almost normal to Ginny, given some of the things she'd done the last few years.

Sneaking through Hogwarts' halls in the dead of night? Hah – she'd been doing that alone since the age of eleven, so doing the same with two close friends was a snap.

Dodging Mrs. Norris – alright, that took some creativity, and in the end she still wound up fairly furious with Neville for using a jinx that bound the ragged cat's paws and sealed her muzzle shut. After all that, chucking a web-spinning IncarcerTrap at her seemed beyond overkill – it seemed cruel, not to mention a touch unsettling, to leave her lying there bound, eyes spitting hatred at the three students' backs.

Coming up the corridor to the Headmaster's office, though, was beyond strange or disconcerting – it felt _wrong_. She had to remind herself constantly that no, it was Snape who was the Headmaster, the filthy murderous Death Eater. There was no sane reason to feel guilty about breaking into _his_ office.

Then Neville broke open the first of the Security Snappers, and with a 'pop' those feelings vanished, restoring Ginny's true feelings – an eager desire to get her hands on Gryffindor's sword – but also frightening her. That there had been such a subtle deterrent spell… well, they should have expected something like that from Snape, she supposed, but it was still alarming. She'd been halfway to suggesting they turn back. After that, of course, she was only more sternly determined to soldier on.

So when they heard a scuffling noise in the hall as they were bent over the base of the gargoyle statue, trying to figure out which of the keys on the key-ring to insert to open the passage by non-magical means, means a Squib like Filch would need in order to report to the Headmaster, they dismissed it as rats, or a house-elf. Just as they managed to get the gargoyle to admit them, though, they saw the bobbing of a lantern brightening at the end of the hall, someone about to come around the corner.

They crammed into the alcove at the foot of the spiral stairway, not daring to climb it yet, waiting to hear if anyone on the other side of the door had an inkling they were there. The air grew hot and humid from their heavy panting breaths, and when steps echoed past them, the air reverberated with their pounding hearts.

Soon enough, the ominous footsteps moved on past, and the students moved on up the staircase to the Headmaster's office.

After that, none of them, later, could reconstruct what happened in any kind of coherent way. Ginny swore, though, that when the shout of dismay greeted their entrance, it was Luna who less-than-helpfully lobbed an IncarcerTrap at the offending portrait – for all the good it did. They all whipped out their wands, certainly – they were at least that well-trained – but then fell to completely opposing tasks. Luna tried to charm a Decoy Detonator to scuttle down stairs and down the hall, which, it turned out, Decoy Detonator legs weren't built to handle, and it tumbled down the stairs with a horridly loud clamor. Ginny's most immediate thought was '_defensive magic_,' and she whirled on Neville, but he was leaping across the room – still trying to seize the sword – and that was when Snape, summoned by the portrait, and Alecto Carrow, summoned back down the corridor by the racket, converged on the hapless trio.

* * *

Draco and Blaise found her the next day after only about three hours of hide-and-seek around the castle. She had, at least, found glamour charms to deal with the bruises remaining around the broken bone Carrow had given her, wrenching her about by the arm while shrieking, "I got one, I got one!" Still, the only two Slytherins who didn't smirk on seeing her, after hearing of the night's events, were also the only two she didn't want to see. And indeed, when they found her tucked away in an old Defense classroom behind a Foe-Mirror, they weren't smirking, they were biting their lips.

"What in hell were you thinking?" Blaise blurted out, predictably.

"If it was a gem-encrusted sword you were wanting, why didn't you just ask one of us? After all, jewelry like your bracelet is far harder to find than gaudy ruby-studded goblin weaponry. After the bracelet, anything else is a trifle," Draco scoffed, his eyes and his tone cold with irritation that she had, after all, gotten herself in trouble again.

Ginny had had no idea that magical bracelets could be more valuable than ancient relics. Her main observation, before last night, was that it matched her other jewelry and her wardrobe nicely – Blaise's input, she guessed – and that it caught the light in an entrancingly beautiful way – Draco's priority, she'd supposed.

That shock, though, helped her keep her mouth shut. While Snape undoubtedly knew why they'd gone after that sword, thanks to the Ministry's inquiries and interference in Dumbledore's will, they certainly didn't need anyone else to be alerted to its value – or to the fact that a handful of kids _knew_ its value. Whatever value that may be, that had made Dumbledore want to leave it to his protégé.

The other reason she said nothing was because, last night, when Alecto tortured them and Snape had stood by, she'd learned to appreciate the bracelet's value – every Cruciatus Curse ran across her skin but was instantly sucked up by the gems, which glowed hot but faithfully absorbed all the pain. It was a good thing, looking at it that way, that Alecto had broken her arm, because the screams Ginny let loose from the pain of _that_ were probably the only reason the Death Eaters hadn't started wondering what was blocking their favorite torture curse.

So Ginny favored the boys with a bland smile and blander brush-offs, and avoided them steadily until one of them finally caught up with her.

* * *

Severus was reviewing the events of the other night, trying to analyze all that had gone wrong. It was hard to think analytically, though, when his mind was dwelling on a wide-eyed sixteen-year old howling in pain for minutes that dragged on like hours.

Snape blessed that aquamarine bracelet, surrounding which he'd glimpsed a pack of spells, and chief among them, the tell-tale glimmer of yellow that shone from spells that blocked Cruciatus.

Snape blessed Carrow's felicitous inability to see magic the way he did, so that she never knew, never noticed that the target of her rage wasn't being tortured.

He blessed the way Ginny, who was safe, was left to Carrow while he took responsibility for mauling the other two. It was almost easy to do, he was so furious with them for endangering themselves like that, but Snape lived and died by his precise control, so it was with precise control that he battered them about, almost tenderly seeing to it that their heads weren't about to collide with a sharp corner, but snagging skin roughly and theatrically. When they'd dismissed the three fifteen minutes later, they were all winded, battered, with the girls both crying over broken bones, but he knew they'd be patched up in a trice, knew that at the very least, he hadn't had to commit any more sins that would weigh on his soul.

He damned himself, though, for his lack of foresight – that omission _did_ weigh on his soul. Granted, he'd thought a Death Eater's office would be the last place a handful of Light students would wander. Well, he'd been wrong. Grimly, brimming with self-recrimination and self-loathing, Snape bent his mind to the task of assuring the safety of the students Dumbledore had left in his care.

Perhaps half an hour later, the ambiguous Mr. Malfoy stood at his door. "Come in," he called without looking up. Negligently, Snape continued scratching away with his quill as Draco strutted in, taking a seat and waiting, haughty smirk never wavering.

When he felt himself braced to be as receptive as his second-rate Legilimency would allow, he met Draco's eyes.

"Yes?" he drawled, in a cold tone that would put his student on the defensive.

Draco only flashed a bloodthirsty smile. "I heard Weasley and her pals were serving detentions in the Forest, separately."

Snape studied him carefully on every level – mentally, magically, and physically. He'd been close to convinced that Draco suffered the same fascination as Zabini for the problematic red-head, but he read in Draco right now only a sense of malicious enjoyment.

"And?" he drawled.

"And if it would be satisfactory to you, I'd like to volunteer to take charge of Weasley's." Snape offered only a thoughtful frown, so Draco carried on, "You know that I'm the best choice to ensure she really suffers for her crimes – nothing like a Malfoy to put bloodtraitors in their place, as Father would say. If anyone can convince her she's low-class scum who should shut up before she gets herself killed, it's me."

Dilemmas, dilemmas. Draco was definitely bluffing somehow during his miniature rant – not only was Snape's low-level Legilimency warning him of a falsehood, but so was Snape's well-established sense of the lack of respect Draco held for his father. The sole time all year Snape had seen both Malfoys together, at the Ministry event this summer, hadn't Draco fled after a thirty-second exchange with his father? And yet, Draco was waiting for his answer now with an air of predatory anticipation.

Always trusting, Dumbledore had been, even through the most difficult, horrific events of the past spring. Snape went with his gut, and trusted.

Smoothly: "Why, yes, I think you'd be quite well-matched as the enforcer of Miss Weasley's detention." With a silky hint of a threat: "Just see that you're not... made foolish by the power, Draco. She is still a pureblood, and the ultimate outcome of our reign is not set in stone." With a touch of scorn: "And after all, if anything should happen to her, it is I who has to fill out the endless forms. Am I understood?"

"Quite, sir," Draco chirped innocently, but his pale cheeks were flushed with his pleasure at the outcome.

"Very well. Do not disappoint me," Snape snapped. Draco vanished, and the Headmaster plunged back into the calculations of the balance he was trying to strike within the school, grappling with this new complication and praying he wouldn't be disappointed in the end.

_

* * *

_

A.N. - Poor Snapey, between a rock and a hard place. Poor Blaise and Draco... - insert pun involving 'hard' here - I'm not letting the Slytherins have an easy time of it, while meanwhile Miss Weasley just has to roll around on the ground pretending to be tortured for a bit. Ah well. I'm sure Draco will extract... payment... of some sort. To everyone who was eagerly anticipating something kinky last time, when Draco was in charge of Ginny's suspension, well, let the eager anticipation commence ;-)


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_From Draco's rambling to himself in his room:_

"_Right. Steal Ginny's broom. Check. My own broom, check. Now to grab a duvet – I'll steal Blaise's – YOINK – and I'll have to snap up some chocolate, got to see the house elves for that, then… off to steal FOTA's heart?"_

* * *

She'd been ordered to wait in the Entrance Hall at noon for her escort for her detention. Annoying – she'd been told her task, collecting Rogettian Spoor from a foul, carnivorous plant in the dead center of the Forest – but she hadn't been told who was going to oversee her suffering.

Then Draco appeared, beaming nearly as brightly as his highly polished Prefect's badge.

In disbelief, Ginny sighed, and groaned.

"And a good morning to you too, Weasel. Some comment you'd like to share?"

Wary of his chipper mood, she bit her tongue to keep back what she was going to complain about – she'd only piss off Draco, repeating what Harry and Ron had said about how miserable he was to take into the Forest on detentions, acting like a prat and a coward.

She was just as glad she hadn't said anything as he hustled her down the lawns, all business, and steady as an arrow despite the awkward bundle under his arm.

Then they reached the trees, and he dropped the bundle, giving her a deliciously wicked grin of excitement. "I have a surprise for you," he sang out, unrolling the bundle, which proved, to her shock and delight to be her broom and Draco's, wrapped in a blanket to disguise an otherwise all-too obviously shaped bundle. "Blaise's blanket," he confided with a conspiratorial wink.

"Wicked…" she said in a tone indicating she wasn't certain at all that it was wicked – "but what are we going to do with them? We still have to collect the Rogettian Spoor."

"Oh, and we will," he promised, grin widening till Ginny was half convinced she saw little devil horns peeping out the sides of his head. He mounted his Nimbus, impatiently waiting for her to take her Cleansweep. Then he kicked off the ground, hugging the terrain, heading straight into the woods.

"Draco?" she questioned, and he cackled as he rapidly pulled away. "You're fucking nuts!" she howled at his back, kicking off and following hot on his heels, his infectious grin stealing over her face.

It was sheer madness, and that was undoubtedly how he knew she'd love it. He did his damnedest to shake her, wheeling around rocks and obstacles, ducking and swinging around trees…

Realizing whereabouts in the forest they were, she had a wicked, wicked idea. Pulling wide, level with Draco, she made sure he was slightly behind her.

That was when she dropped to the ground, tumbling head over heels into a heap, cloak crumpled over her like a shroud.

"HA-!" came from Draco, cut off as he realized _why_ he had just surged past her – the triumphant noise quickly morphed into a strangled yelp, and he circled back, tumbling the last few feet from broom to ground and stumbling the few feet to where Ginny lay among the gnarled roots of an old, thick tree.

"Boo," she said mildly, popping up from under her cloak, and still managing to startle him badly.

Then he checked himself, recovering enough to be his usual courtly self, extending a hand to help her up. "Fairest of them all," he said, with a bite behind it – "WHAT was that?!"

Her fingers were running through her thoroughly mussed hair, and incidentally checking the goose-egg rising on her temple – she didn't let Draco notice that trace of clumsiness in her spectacular prank-prat-fall, though, he'd only worry – and so she finger-combed her hair to one side to hang over it. "What?" she answered his question in an innocent tone. "If you get to be fucking insane, so do I. Besides, I wanted to stop here, and it was the easiest way to get us both back on solid ground."

He was still less than thrilled with her for scaring him, but nodded acceptance, grey eyes flicking round them to take in the trees. "Not that we don't have all the time in the world, since we don't actually have to _walk_ to the middle of the forest and back before dark, but, why stop here?"

A sly expression came over her face. "You don't recognize it?" He shook his head. "Excellent," was her response, and she happily collected up her broom and tugged his hand to follow her. He obediently trailed along, but rebelliously didn't let go of her hand when she would have let his drop. Studiously, she avoided looking at him, and pretended she'd hardly noticed.

Given it had been well over a month since the Quidditch match when he and Blaise had shown up flushed and satiated, Ginny didn't blame him for his momentary hesitation, as he reconciled the bank of the frosted-over spring, littered with dead leaves, with what must have been an idyllic sight closer to summer. But he recognized it after a moment, sure enough – his mouth turned up at the corners into what was definitely either an evil grin, or a full-on smirk.

Since Ginny had seen the stream more recently, when she and Blaise had been working on Narcissa's birthday present, she was less surprised, but the differences in those few weeks reminded her just how chilly it was now that winter was fully upon them, and she shivered hard.

"Here, take this," Draco murmured into her ear, and the blanket he'd bundled the brooms in was settled around her shoulders.

The daredevil broom race through the trees, followed by her hare-brained stunt, had gotten her blood up – that was Ginny's excuse for her naughty response – "Oh, but then _you'll_ be cold!" She threw one of his own smirks back into his face – "Unless… we share?"

Which was how she found herself cuddled up with Draco under a tree in a light snowfall, snogging pleasantly. While Draco's kisses were of their usual superbly divine quality, melting not only Ginny's knees but also the snow around them (well, ok, that was his spell's doing), Ginny was pleasantly surprised that Draco wasn't pushing for anything further – the last time they'd snogged, in the carriage with Blaise, he'd been incredibly, insistently pushy.

Then his hand went wandering down under the folds of the blanket, and the Weasley Temper flared, ready to fire – and his hand came back up, cupping something that wasn't her.

"Close your eyes," he suggested. Since he hadn't tried to molest her yet, she did.

Something hard, angular, definitely not Draco's tongue, pushed against her lips. Tentatively she opened her mouth slightly, got a small taste – and inhaled it so fast she nearly took Draco's finger off, too.

When she'd sucked, savored, and swallowed the bit of fudge, she sighed happily, then peeked an eye open, guilty. "Er, sorry – I didn't nip your finger or anything, did I?"

"No, just sucked it a bit… but nipping it sounds hot too, go ahead and do that if you like," he urged huskily, and she was aware of how he was pressed tight and hard against her.

"_Oh_," she said softly, and lowering her eyelashes, accepted another piece of fudge, this time, deliberately sucking his fingertips, then kissing each digit lightly. He whimpered.

"Did you just whimper?" she asked, incredulous.

"Of course not," he replied stiffly, in a tone colder than the wind around them. She opened her mouth to press the point, so he put his tongue in it. When her attempt to speak turned into wordless hums of enjoyment, he traced his tongue down her jaw, down her neck, hunting for the spot Blaise had suckled with such good results two weeks ago, after Kama Sutra.

"Oh, God, Malfoy, you bastard…" she hissed, curling her fingers in his hair and inching closer into his lap. He snickered, and sucked harder. "You're a fucking tease," she told him.

He drew back, studying her face and licking his lips. "Hmm, yeah, keep talking dirty to me."

"Just because you have a phenomenally talented tongue, think you can get away anything…" she muttered resentfully.

He leaned in, capturing her lips, and murmuring against them, "Quite."

She gasped almost before she even realized what he'd done as he'd leant in – where his hand had gone – the weight of his palm on her breast was recognized by the flare in her groin, first, not by her brain.

'_Lousy traitor brain…'_ she thought sourly, for only a second – had her brain recognized what was going on first, she might have stood a chance at stopping him, but not when her nerves were responding to his kneading and massaging as though he were conducting a symphony… The sodding bastard knew it, too – his kisses became smug, cocky.

"Sodding cocky bastard," she accused him. In response, he pinched the nipple he had in his hand already. His other hand started snaking up the back of her shirt, darting for…?

Her bra suddenly came apart at the back, the straps flopping uselessly on her shoulders, and he released her nipple in order to plunge down her shirt and cup her breast carefully.

"Sodding plunging necklines, sodding useless bra… sodding feels too good," Ginny was murmuring into Draco's ear, hardly aware of the words pouring from her mouth because, good heavens, who knew her modest, nothing-special chest could wind her up in a situation like this?

His warm, tender hands roamed across her breasts, making her sigh and settle dangerously close on his lap, and do silly things like nibble his earlobes because they looked delicious. It seemed to go on for ages. Then he was kissing down her collarbone, his chin already trying to nudge her shirt out of the way to clear a path down her breast for his lips, and far sooner than she'd have liked to, she had to put a stop to it.

"Draco," she tried, inching back slightly. "Draco!"

He just lunged forward, trying to catch her exposed nipple in his mouth. It was electric, it was incredible, and as he spoke, his lips buzzed around her pointed bud… "Oh, that's it, moan my name," he was saying, and she jerked back hard this time, leaving him gaping like a puzzled infant, and landing herself in the snow, where her rear was of course instantly soaked.

Head still spinning from his intoxicating touch, she gasped, huffed a moment trying to gather up steam to lay into him for her snow-encrusted bum, and gave up, laughing weakly and crawling back into his embrace.

But not before redoing her bra, buttoning her shirt up much higher, and instructing him that "Come on, baby, say my name," was never going to fly with her.

* * *

"This is no time for homework," Draco informed Blaise solemnly, an urgent look in his smoky eyes, as he dragged his boyfriend away from his table in the Dungeon's common room and down to the seventh years' dorm.

Blaise rolled his eyes, half-way between being alarmed at Draco's burning urgency, and being irritated because, the day before it was due was indeed an appropriate time to start a fifty-inch essay on the fundamental laws of Malgreave's Horticultural Transfigurations.

When Draco locked the door, tugged off his pants to release his hard-on, and grabbed Blaise by the crotch, he groaned, and not entirely in exasperation with his boyfriend.

"I have work to do," he informed Draco dolefully, but he was already reacting to Draco's touch, grinding against his hand.

"Well, this should be a good break, then – just lie on the bed like a good boy, won't you?..."

Finally, Draco, too, lay still, though he was still sprawled on top of Blaise, kissing his way up and down his lover's spine lazily.

"So I take it detention with our favorite red head was less than fulfilling," Blaise asked with a chuckle in his voice.

"Actually," Draco perked up, "it was quite amazing progress."

"Progress? Without me? Why, Malfoy, who knew that stiff-upper-lip nobility act could get you beyond a peck on the lips?!"

Steaming at his playful jest, Draco pouted a moment before an evil smirk stole over his face. "Oh, I was kissing much more than lips…"

He picked himself up from his careless recline, draped across Blaise, so that his incredulous boyfriend could sit as well and face him, astonishment in his eyes. "Spill," he urged.

"Oh, I sucked at her lips… her neck… _her nipples_…"

"You son-of-a-bitch, you're shitting me." Draco, well-accustomed to Blaise's foulness, smirked broadly. But his boyfriend was serious in his shock. "Do you know how mad I've gone wishing I could nuzzle those breasts? Hell, even get in a decent grope? And you've been suckling away, specifically the one time I couldn't join you?"

Exasperated and dismayed, Draco tried to explain, "It's not like I planned it that way, like I'm trying to corner the market on Ginny's breasts… I could hardly invite you along on detention. And give me a break, it wasn't like I _knew_ it was going to happen – you're the one in Divination, not me!"

Blaise, sour from the tension of his day so far, scrabbling to do two months' worth of research, and lacking the rush of relief Draco had just so energetically gotten, muttered, "You didn't plan it, but you sure as hell took advantage of it… just trying to show me up. I thought this was _my_ idea, my project."

Draco cut a cold sneer at the whine in his boyfriend's voice. "Oh really? I thought it was 'ours.' My mistake." He left Blaise alone in their dormitory, feeling empty.

* * *

Ginny had her own torturously long essays to write, and so for the first week of December, she barely even noticed the lack of Slytherin studs in the stacks at the library – well, not while she was working, at any rate. When she was tucked cozily up in her warm four-poster in Gryffindor tower, she'd suffer elaborate fantasies of two Ravenclaw-clad brunettes appearing in her dorm, then shedding their disguises… and their clothes…

When she finished her damnable Potions take-home test, though, she was free to search out a pair of scrumptious snogging partners to take the edge off her steamy fantasies. So it was with a great deal of dismay that she stumbled on the Head Boy and the Prefect carrying in a Christmas tree and squabbling.

She watched them proceed down the corridor, and the single glimpse she caught of Draco's stormy, stony expression made her balk – all the fun and intimacy of their last time hanging out, in the forest during what was supposed to be her horrible, awful punishment, couldn't outweigh her nervousness at approaching him, so while he rooted around in a box of decorations on the other side of the hall, she sidled up to Blaise. "You free later? If you could show me back to wherever you found that pine tree, I'm sure there's some lovely pinecones to be collected…"

He grunted dourly. "I don't know what I'm doing later, really," he told her stiffly.

Quite put off – she'd expected Blaise, at least, to be his usual puppy-fun self – she drew back. "Well alright, then."

She set off following the wet snowy tracks the boys had left out of the castle, then traced their footprints into the forest. About fifteen minutes later, Blaise appeared silently at her side, handing her pinecones and clusters of holly. He was moping, staring down at the snow, so she refused to take the plant from his hand, making him finally look up, questioningly.

Ginny met his questioning gaze with a sterner one of her own, at which he finally looked abashed. "Sorry. Had to help Draco finish decorating before following you. Fuck knows I don't need him having even more reason to be pissed off with me."

"Oh," she said, quietly, "I'm sorry to hear that."

He shrugged. They picked up the forest's litter among the snow in silence.

* * *

It was the second-to-last day before the holiday break. This time, the brawny pair of boys were tasked with hauling in crate after crate of Christmas crackers. Who the hell was going to pull them, in a castle filled almost solely with teachers, was something of a mystery. Practically without exception, all the students were going home, to be with their families, for this particularly grim Yuletide.

This time, it was Draco who approached Ginny, while she was lurking across the Entrance Hall in a nook, watching them. This time, he didn't look formidable, just pitiable. "If I ask nicely and promise you amazing chocolates as a Christmas present, will you do me a favor?"

"What, and why?" she asked suspiciously.

"I need you to let Blaise down your shirt as a Christmas present from me, so he'll stop resenting me."

At her flabbergasted expression, he pulled out a puppy-dog eyed display of abject hopelessness. "Please? I swear, I'll buy one of everything from Godiva's, just… please? It'll set everything right between us, and he'll know I didn't mean what I said, and we won't fight anymore…"

Now Ginny was torn between the pleasurable sight of Draco groveling and the tantalizing vision of Godiva's chocolate. "Even fresh-dipped chocolate strawberries?" she asked, to be sure.

He wasn't so abject that he missed an opportunity to be lewd. "_Especially_ chocolate strawberries," he murmured, with a suggestive wriggle of his eyebrows, and Ginny lamented the fact that between the promised aphrodisiac treats, and letting Blaise feel her up just before going home, she was going to be… tightly wound, over Christmas.

"You've got a deal," she assured him confidently, completely ignoring the sinking feeling of trepidation in her stomach.

* * *

Blaise met up with her in the completely empty library the next evening, back in the Magical Law Collection. Ginny leaned gingerly against a shelf, hoping she hadn't just gotten lines of dust all across her back, so that she could coolly survey him, arms crossed, as he approached.

"So apparently I'm your Christmas present…" she said with a sarcastic smile.

"Red bow on your head, and everything," he said wryly, taking in the way she'd happened to curl her hair that day.

She frowned sourly. "Yeah, my wand and I had some disagreements about Curling Charms."

"No matter," he said lightly, immediately tangling his hands in her curls and rendering the whole question obsolete. He gave her a delicious kiss, but broke it off hesitantly – "Are you, um, irritated that…"

"That you're here just to paw me?"

"No! I want to hold you against me, I want to kiss you…" Blaise's protests died off when she gave him a brilliant, amused smile. "Hmphf, I see. I take it you're ok with it?"

She pouted flirtingly. "That depends on how well you paw me."

Blaise's cerulean eyes darkened towards midnight at the implied competition with his boyfriend. "Oh, I'll suck your nipples till they poke through your shirt all the next day," he whispered in her ear, edging a thigh between hers so he could press snugly against her body.

She laced her hands around his back, let them slide down to his bum… and squeeze. Then she looked up through the vivid red ringlets framing her face, and batted her eyes at him. With a pleased growl, he tugged her hair to one side to hone in on all the spots along the slope of her shoulder that drove her wild.

The first time she ground back against his hips – which had, of course, been crushing against hers the whole time – he smiled broadly, a hand running lightly under her shirt, as he diverted the attention to her lips, kissing hard, and her breasts – those glorious curves he had coveted so desperately. They both let out happy sighs as his fingers found her nipple, rubbing gently across it, back down, ringing around her breast so lightly it nearly tickled.

At that point, she undid her bra with a quick snap to give his hands free play. Another tantalizing moment… Ginny whimpered with need, and he felt her hands fumbling between their bodies.

A few seconds later, he looked down to a breath-taking sight – Ginny's shirt hanging partway open, bra dangling from the crook of one elbow, so that it was just two swells of snowy white skin inviting Blaise to bury his head there.

Scooping her up, setting her on a table, knees to either side of him, he brushed aside her school blouse and did his best to do homage to the sight before him. By the time he was finished, Ginny wasn't sure that she'd have two points poking from her shirt the next day, but she also didn't expect that the red, ravaged look (or the chain of hickeys trailing from one breast to the other) were going away any time soon.

"So Draco is back in your good graces?" Ginny asked with a poise that surprised herself as she did her bra and buttons back up.

Blaise looked longingly from his bulging trousers, to her, but nodded. "Is he ever. We're certainly even now."

Ginny smirked. "I gave Draco _his_ Christmas present by helping him end your stupid fight… now I get to give you yours…" She hopped down from the long table, strutting to Blaise's side.

He had to lean down to hear what she whispered faintly in his ear: "Whatever he may have told you, _Draco_ only got his mouth on my boob for about half a second."

She let that sink into Blaise's consciousness, enjoyed the startled, beaming smile that came over his face, and strode out of the library to finish packing.

_

* * *

_

A.N. - OKAY. A, um, Christmas-in-July present for you all. Can't tell you how much fun I had writing this chapter, too... ;) anyway enjoy! Because I'm going on vacation for a bit and not sure when the next update will be. Trust me, it falls in a good place for a break anyway. Meanwhile... go read my sequel to 'To Return to the Chamber of Secrets,' titled 'Riddle's Inheritance.' Or if you haven't read the TRttCoS you could try that... it's as snarky as this one, but dark. Depends on your tastes I suppose. Anyway. Till I next post - see ya, guys! (Should only be a couple weeks tops.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_From a scrap of paper on which Severus Snape is keeping a tally:_

_12-27-96__  
4 of 5 crates of Christmas crackers opened.__  
11 goldfish__  
47 fake wands  
4 rabbits  
18 flocks of canaries  
73 _horrid_ jokes**  
Still no vulture hat!**__... Christmas without Albus is intolerable…_

_From Ginny Weasley's List of Loot:_

_D- Immense pile of chocolates  
B- AWKWARD THING THAT HE NEEDS TO DIE FOR.  
M- SweaterD- Muggle 'Gizmo'  
L- the owl still hasn't made it, I suppose  
N- "When Paranoia Isn't Enough Anymore – An Advanced Defense Workbook"_

* * *

Ginny had only been home a few hours – long enough to change, to eat some of the hearty bean stew her anxious mother had thrust in front of her, and long enough to begin longing for a good snog from Draco and Blaise – both of whom had already written to her, not that she'd had a chance to do more than grab the post from the owls and stash the notes in her pockets to read later.

When she ducked into her room, her intent was to finally find out what the boys had to say, and perhaps that was why when she heard her mother's soft, "Ginevra?" she whirled so guiltily.

But her mother's expression was shifty as well – she followed Ginny quickly into the room, furtively checking over her shoulder both ways down the empty hallway before closing the door firmly. "Ginevra…" her mother repeated.

The last time Ginny had heard her mother say her full name like that she'd been on the receiving end of a tearful depiction of Percy's latest reply to her mother's constant pleas for his return – her daughter was the only one whose temper could bear the knowledge that Molly was still writing Percy.

That was a bad memory, a bad association with her mother's soft pronouncing of "Ginevra" – but the time before that was worse. Ginny had just the week before turned fifteen, and just met Dean in Diagon Alley the day before for a date which her mother approved of not in the slightest. She'd already gotten 'the birds and the bees' – now it was time, Molly had decided, for discussions of male and female arousal. It was probably the worst hour of her life, hitting a nadir with the phrase, "your father and I." Her mother had only left her alone when Ginny had threatened to use a Permanent Imperturbable Charm on her own eardrums.

And now her mother had, remarkably, managed to get her alone for a moment's quiet, and had said her name that same strained way, and had one of her horridly anxious looks on her face. Painfully, as though pulling teeth, Ginny's mum managed: "Dear… I was talking to Augusta Longbottom the other day… now, apparently her Neville told her something, um, unusual –" Molly chewed on her lip, and Ginny's heart dropped into her feet. "I was wondering – I mean, he may have been exaggerating… but I hope you'll either confirm or deny it, for my peace of mind." The letters in her pocket were scalding her – or maybe that was guilt. _He knew. He'd told._

_KA-POW!_

Something blasted off, then ricocheted around the twins' room. Molly looked murderous – but also hesitant. After a last anxious look at her daughter, Molly tore off out the room and up the stairs to do a very literal bout of damage control.

Frozen in shock at her good fortune, Ginny waited cautiously till she heard screeches of rage and twin denials, then bolted to her door, locking it. She sank down on the bed, alone and able to read the letters at last.

"_Dear Ginny,_

_As promised, lots of Godiva goodies for your Christmas present. The second owl will hang around till you're alone."_ She looked up at the window and didn't see anything, but opened it anyways. A majestically large owl, with an enormous parcel, barely cleared the window, and settled on her bed. She untied the package quickly, letting it take off again before it could make any kind of racket.

"_I – we – hope you're having a good holiday. We miss you already. Especially since we've spent the last hour skinny-dipping. Believe me, we _really_ wish you were here…"_

She could practically hear the leer in his words. She believed it, alright.

"_Anyway, we're going to be thinking about you all break… all the time… well, alright, maybe _particularly_ during certain times more than others. Hope that idea pleases you, Fairest – knowing how much we want to please you… to pleasure you…_

_ Draco._

_And PS: My present's in there too!! Much love and kisses and sucking on your beautiful breasts, --Blaise. Oh and Happy Christmas."_

She cast a sideways glance at that last postscript – why had he sent her a separate letter as well? That question was answered almost as soon as she read the first line:

"_Dearest Fairest,_

_Greetings from the train, where I'm writing to you with one hand and running the other over Draco's cock – the naughty boy pulled it out himself, it wasn't my doing, honestly… if you were here, I think I'd be putting my hand on yours, and drawing it to him, urging you to stroke him…"_

Cheeks flaming, she folded that letter back up. For a moment she considered putting her wand to it, destroying it – she really ought to – if anyone ever found it…

But it had been such a very _long_ letter. And this was going to be such a very _long_ break away from school – two weeks without any snogging. She tucked it under the broken floorboard under her bed.

Then she turned to the package. Draco hadn't, it turned out, literally bought her one of everything Godiva's sold (she suspected even a Malfoy might bankrupt himself that way,) but he had picked a small selection of each category of goodies. A box of four truffles, a bag of a few macaroons, carefully wrapped and carefully chill-spelled chocolate strawberries, as promised… she flushed at that, renewed the chill-spell, and stowed those on top of Blaise's letter under the floor.

She tugged out and surveyed the rest of the packages of goodies, deciding what to keep out for munching on. At least, if she had to hole up in her room too much this break to avoid her mum, she'd be well fed. And, she thought, pondering the letter from Blaise, maybe well entertained, too. But… where was _his_ present, among all these boxes and bags?

She found it in the velvety black box that she'd assumed held some particularly fine dark chocolate. When she opened it, she wasn't sure just what she _was_ looking at, but knew it wasn't candy – even if it _was_ a bubblegum-pink color. It looked like a plastic snitch, without wings, she thought. Then she saw the sheet of printed parchment that it was laying on.

"_FINEST ADULT PRODUCTS from SENSUWICK and LASVISIAN'S: _

_One highest-quality Discreet Pleasure Snitch. Easy-start, just say "Yes, please!" – but also comes with safety and discretion features: FLESH MEMORY, just like the Golden Snitch it resembles – once this Snitch touches _your_ snitch, it will forever work only for you… and only responds to the start-up phrase when the room is warded by a sound-proofing spell. Vibrates at HIGH-SPEED, and charmed to stay in place for NO-HANDS sessions that will satisfy you to your core."_

She blinked at the parchment, looked at the round, pink globe in her palm, and dropped it like a hot-potato back into its box. From how hot her cheeks were, she knew they were flaming red again. She crammed the box deep into the cubbyhole under her bed, tucked beyond the candy. She'd far rather lose a few of the extravagant chocolates than have _that_ discovered by any snoops in the Burrow.

* * *

"_Dear Ginny,_

_It's Neville – hullo, Happy Christmas and all that – listen, have you heard from Luna?" She wandered away on the train to talk to some Ravenclaws and didn't find me to say goodbye at the station…and she hasn't owled me…_

_Best,  
Neville_

* * *

It seemed like eons till Ginny was able to get back on the train and head back to Hogwarts. Sure, she cherished being with her family, given how mad the world was going. But it was so grim, and without sight or word of her brother, friend, or ex, she was hopelessly lonely. She couldn't help regarding the time as lost without consolation from the three Gryffindors, or her two Slytherins. Granted, the Slytherins at least wrote to her… endlessly, to the point that she had to admit she'd have been better off simply throwing their post into the fireplace, because reading it stoked flames of a different nature.

Between the unfinished conversation about whatever Neville had told his grandmother, and her mother's curiosity over her letters, and, to be blunt, her constantly aroused state, things were very tense on that front as well. (Tense, anyway, till the night Ginny finally caved and dug a Christmas present out of its hiding spot and put it to use – then, at least, her mother stopped questioning her about her flushed cheeks and anxious jitteriness.)

When her compartment door burst inwards shortly after the train began moving, Ginny wasn't the least bit surprised – until wide, round eyes met hers, rather than smirking blue and grey eyes. "Neville, good grief – did you lose Trevor again?" she asked, irritated, shoving the letter from Blaise she'd been about to re-read back into her pocket guiltily.

"No – I've lost Luna!" he gulped, miserably.

Tentatively, she questioned, "Lost her, how? If she slipped away for something or another, I'm sure she'll find you back at Hogwarts. Or if this is about that note you sent – look, if you two had a fight –"

"No – no fight – it's that she's not on the train at all – and she hasn't wrote to me – we said we would exchange letters every day! I never heard from her!" His voice was high with panic.

"Wait, you mean she's - _missing_?" On the word 'missing' the tears that had been welling up in Neville's eyes spilled over. Ginny tugged him over to sit next to her, slipping the luggage out of his numb hands and settling him down with her arms around him, his face buried in her neck.

When she'd gotten his letter, she'd read it as them having had a fight, and him wondering if she'd heard anything on Luna's side – but since she'd gotten no letter from her mate, she assumed whatever the disagreement was, it was minor enough that Luna wasn't about to write to her over it, and that she therefore had nothing useful for Neville. But if she was truly '_missing_' – the way people listed in the Prophet were – her heart clenched.

Two minutes later, a tall brawny figure and a slender, slight one eased up to the compartment's window – Draco rather wanted to burst in and ravish her as he'd been doing to Blaise on that train ride September 1st when he first saw the beautiful and ravishing Miss Weasley. But at the sight of her with her friend, the boys turned away, disheartened, and found their own compartment, pulling out a deck of cards to while away the journey.

* * *

The castle was cold, and Ginny, sensitive to temperature, was miserable. The first week back, she'd thought she'd feel better, but instead she felt like she'd spent the week drifting further away from everyone.

She'd came down to breakfast the second day of classes a bit early, so she could meet up with (and check on) Neville. As she picked at a crust of toast, she saw two figures strutting up on either side. When they slid into place on her left and right, it was all Ginny could do not to duck under the long table to hide. "Go _away_," she hissed.

"And we missed you too, Fairest," chuckled Blaise.

She spared half a glance at him, not having seen him properly since getting to school. He'd gotten tanner, and the grin he flashed at her was all the more startling against his dark olive face. It would have startled her, regardless – the funk she was in, she was surprised to remember someone _could_ be as cheerful as Blaise. "What do you think you're doing? You'll be seen talking to me."

They rolled their eyes – "Yes, and commended for giving a hard time to a bloodtraitor, no doubt," Draco said sarcastically.

She chose to ignore the sarcasm and bristled at the slur anyway. "Bug off." She knew Neville would be here soon, and he'd know that they weren't giving her a hard time – he was well aware they were chasing her, but until that aborted conversation with her mother, she'd been pretty sure he didn't know they'd 'caught' her, a few times. She sure as hell didn't want to let him know that, if he hadn't figured it out yet, and if he was reporting God-knows-what to his grandmother about her… "Seriously, scat," she repeated as her anxiety mounted.

They leveled her pouty looks. "Until later, then," they murmured, brushing her hand and cheek with kisses and slipping off to Slytherin's table.

"_Sure_ they'll think you're bullying the bloodtraitor, when they see you flirting that way," she murmured sourly under her breath, stabbing a sausage violently.

"Sorry?" came Neville's cracked, weary question from behind her.

"Er. Sausage?" she offered, praying he hadn't caught the previous scene with the Head Boy and his boyfriend.

It appeared not – and that was when the other side of the equation occurred to Ginny. How mad had she been driven, when Blaise and Draco were chasing her and Luna and Neville were letting themselves be caught half-dressed around her all the time? And that was just Ginny being randy. Neville was heart-broken – the last thing she could do was rub in his face her surplus of suitors.

So when the boys approached her in the halls over the following week, she shooed them away anxiously. The looks they exchanged when she met each of their advances with rejection were increasingly becoming less 'adorable puppy-dog pout' and more 'brooding, thwarted Slytherin' glances that expressed their increasing moodiness. Had she been less preoccupied with scanning around and making sure Neville hadn't seen her with the boys, she might have recognized the danger signs…

* * *

"It's been far too long away from those glorious globes…" Blaise sighed.

Still slightly jealous at how _enthusiastically_ Ginny had imparted his Christmas present to Blaise, Draco snapped, "It's only been a few weeks." Then he sighed, stretching to release some of the tension in his shoulders. "Sorry. I'm as wound-up over it as you are," he admitted with a hint of reluctance.

Blaise stroked his back – they were sprawled out on his bed, in their skivvies. "I thought after a break from us she'd be more eager than ever… honestly, I thought we'd be working on the final goal of our checklist by now. Especially after all those steamy letters."

Draco chuckled. "Good grief, yeah. Just writing them had you diving into my pants afterwards. I'd have thought _reading_ them would have had her diving into ours in a heartbeat… instead we're even worse off than we were a few months ago. She barely tolerates us kissing her."

Blaise pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe… maybe instead of absence making her fonder, it was more, 'out of sight, out of mind,'" he suggested.

Draco considered that: "Well then we're seriously screwed – or rather, NOT screwed. If Christmas break helped her distance herself from us, then we've got a horribly long way to go to fix things."

Blaise, lazy and impatient, groaned. "There's got to be a better way." He stared off into the distance while Draco knotted his hands in Blaise's hair, massaging his neck soothingly. Then he lunged to sit up – "OW-" (Draco hastily unwound his fingers from strands of Blaise's black locks.) "There is a better way," Blaise announced.

"Oh," Draco prompted with a cynically raised eyebrow.

"Yes." Blaise's mouth curled up into a satisfied smirk. He traced his long nails in looping patterns, possessively, over Draco's forearm. "Remember the bet we made, love?"

"About whether Ginny used your Christmas present?" A matching smirk appeared on Draco's face for a moment as he considered their bet – then, it vanished, as he realized what Draco was suggesting. "Wait. Are you serious?"

"Why not?" his mad, foolish boyfriend suggested airily. "We can settle our bet and hopefully remind Ginny of why she should miss us, all at once."

Even though every Slytherin instinct in his body was rallying in approval at this daringly sneaky trick, Draco's Malfoy instincts were warning him of the danger of provoking a Weasley _that_ badly. "You've got to be kidding… we can't possibly…" he protested faintly.

"Kidding? Me?" Blaise flashed a roguish grin.

"No. No, no, we are _not_ doing this, you loon," Draco said, even more uncomfortable with the idea now that he saw how enamored Blaise was with it.

His boyfriend stretched beside him on the bed, propped up on one elbow so he lurked over Draco – who was immediately conscious of being shorter and lighter, as he always was when those dark violet eyes hung over him like that. "Yes." Blaise hissed in his ear, breath fluttering the fine hairs on the back of Draco's neck. "Yes, yes we _are_ doing this, you wanker."

"Not a wanker. You're a wanker," was Draco's sullen response, made all the more surly by his realization that he was only inches from giving in to Blaise.

"Oh, am I?" Blaise crooned, and proceeded to slip a hand down Draco's trousers, trapping his hard-on in silk boxers and running those maddening nails up and down his length. When, with an anguished noise, Draco bucked his hips, signaling that Blaise had won, his wicked lover set about proving his skills as a wanker.

* * *

_A.N. - Hello loves! I'm back from my vacation, not particularly rested but at least a bit tanner, haha. So - on with the second half of the story! And sorry to land you with a semi-cliffhanger right off the bat. I'll promise you no cliffies next chapter, how's that? So - guess which awkward experience Ginny suffers this chapter that I ripped off 100 percent from real life? I'll supply the answer next chapter!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

_From Blaise trying to recollect the instructions:_

"_It's 'yes please,' I'm sure of that. And like I said, if I'm the winner of the bet, all it'll take is your levitation spell. The memory in it takes care of the rest. Now… there was one other condition… what was it… Ah. The room has to be sound-proofed first. Not," he favored Draco with a wicked grin, "that we'd have neglected that delightful detail, anyway."_

_From Ginny's goals for 1998_

_Stay out of trouble._  
_Be discreet as humanly possible around Neville.  
Kick Draco's arse in the match against Slytherin._

* * *

It was still cold in the castle, and Ginny's mood was still as awful as the weather outside. After burning just about every favor Ginny was owed from Tonks, Bill, and other Order members, Luna's whereabouts were still unknown, and Neville was, in Ginny's opinion, just slightly unhinged. Ginny, chilled by the disappearance of one of the DA ringleaders, had no intention of drawing the Death Eater authorities' attention to herself. At the very least, she needed to keep her Captaincy and her prefect's bathroom privileges, so she could have _some _respite from Draco and Blaise's stalking.

Neville, though, was more daring – or at least, desperate – than ever. She'd just found out at supper that evening that he was planning to start his spray-painting campaign, which had prompted her (very vocal and public) flight up to bed with a 'bad stomach-ache,' her favored alibi. If her madly-brave friend got himself in any kind of trouble, _someone_ had to be left to console the remainder of the Gryffindors, who were more frightened than ever with Luna's disappearance.

When she heard clomping footsteps up the stairs, she was pleased, in a vague way. All the better if someone saw her curled up innocently in bed, in her nightgown, book in hand. She didn't look up from _The Devastating Warlord_ when the door opened and closed, or when someone murmured a spell – Alison, one of the former Beuxbaton's students assigned to her dorm, was forever casting warming charms to fight the Scottish winter.

But when she heard someone say loudly, in a gleeful male voice, "Yes _please_!" she looked up sharply, and did a double-take at the two brunette Ravenclaw girls standing at either post at the foot of her bed. It only took an instant for her to realize why the one looked familiar – "Draco!" she hissed, incensed, and then, "Blaise!" she yelped, scandalized. What were they doing in her bedroom?

And why was something in her trunk rattling?

"Alohomora," murmured Blaise.

"Wingardium Leviosa," added Draco, eyes wide with anticipation, as her trunk lid bounced open and something shot out. For a moment, a relieved Ginny thought it was a Snitch, that they'd snuck into her dormitory at nine at night in order to play Quidditch. And then she realized what the absence of wings on this curiously pink-colored 'snitch' meant. And when it hovered an instant before shooting up the side of her bed, she realized what it meant that, just that once over Christmas break, she'd been desperate enough to give Blaise's present a go. The 'flesh memory,' and Draco's charm giving it a lift, meant it could set right to work. She had that one moment of painfully clear regret before the vibration-charmed ball sought out the hem of her nightgown, and headed upwards from there.

To her everlasting dismay, she let out a gasp when it first touched her skin, and the two boys-disguised-as-girls crowded closer, moving from the foot of her bed to either side of her pillow. Blaise reached out and stroked her hair out of her face – she recoiled from his touch, coming as it did alongside such an awkwardly intimate touch elsewhere.

"Fairest," he crooned, while Draco guarded the other side of the bed with a stupid expression on his face, and the vibrator started up in earnest. "We missed you, Fairest… we're so eager to pleasure you."

"We could do it so much more, er, naturally, and passionately, and _honestly_ if you would actually hang out with us, actually let us touch you…" Draco told her intently.

"We'll be around, waiting," Blaise promised, and Ginny nearly groaned in dismay, stopping herself at the last minute when she realized just how it would sound. Then she did groan, and throw her book at him, when he showed no signs of leaving, once he'd said his piece. Her eyes closed briefly of their own accord – damn him, he'd made his point! Why couldn't he call off his Christmas gift and leave her alone?

Draco seemed to be waiting for Blaise to leave as well, and when his lover didn't move, he reached over Ginny to shove him lightly in the chest. "C'mon. You've made your point," he murmured, mirroring Ginny's despairing thoughts.

"But she looks so appealing to watch… her eyes fluttering like that, and chest heaving…"

Glaring death at them both, Ginny scrunched up tighter under her comforter to obscure her body – but shifting allowed the Pleasure Snitch to burrow all the closer to her skin, making her shiver and inhale deeply.

"It's not polite!" Draco insisted.

That was the last she heard of them – she blinked, and they were gone. She had no room to be relieved, though – they hadn't disabled the vibrator, and her wand was on her armoire across from her bed. She made a helpless lunge to get out of bed, but her knees were weakening, and she flopped back under the covers bonelessly, the vibrator doing its job with merciless thoroughness.

* * *

They gave her a day to cool down before searching her out in the halls again.

"Hullo, love," Blaise purred. "Must say, thanks kindly for helping me win my bet against Draco – he thought you wouldn't _touch_ my present, much less use it."

The blood, for once, drained out of Ginny's face rather than flowing into it. Draco winced as the pale-faced girl faced them down. "I. Only. Used it. ONCE! And ONLY because SOMEONE kept sending me filthy letters." Draco was relieved when all of her ire focused on Blaise for a moment there.

"Sorry, Fairest. In the future, perhaps I may deliver pleasurable presents myself, instead of through intermediaries?"

"I'm sorry, did you really just try and call siccing a sex toy on me 'delivering pleasure through an intermediary?!' What the fuck is wrong with you?" Even her knuckles were white, now, as she clenched her hands into fists, Draco noticed in a dazed and frightened way.

"Aww, kitten," Blaise started, and Draco couldn't decide whether to roll his eyes in exasperation or kick his boyfriend – the last thing needed in this situation was a heaping dose of patronization. _He_ would have taken this as the perfect time to get serious, and apologize – it had worked to save them from Ginny's wrath in the past. But oblivious Blaise continued: "We did say we'd rather not have done it that way. If you'd just let us caress you ourselves it would be so much better all around –"

She glared so hard she was squinting at them, and even her lips were white now. "I absolutely refuse to submit to being molested by a pair of – of Death-Eating rapists!"

At that below-the-belt blow, Draco's passive indifference turned to crystalline anger in an instant.

"If we were Death Eaters we'd hardly be debasing ourselves trying to consort with the likes of you," he snapped in an overly calm and controlled voice, before turning crisply on a heel. He strode out of the room, robes swirling dramatically.

Blaise was left on his own to face down Ginny. When he'd finished watching his boyfriend's furious exit, he exhaled, and turned to glare at the girl. "I can't believe, after everything, you'd say that to him. To either of us." The hurt and anger warred in his face – Blaise was an open book, but that just made Ginny realize how much more enraged Draco must be at the slur. "See you around, I guess," he murmured dully, before slouching off after Draco to the dungeons.

* * *

It was, of course, only when the boys _weren't_ pestering her all day, every day, that she realized just how much time there was in the day that she could have spent with them with Neville completely unawares. But Draco wasn't speaking to her, and Blaise wasn't flirting with her. (She still hadn't made up her mind which was the more dramatic development.)

"Goddammit," she muttered, and kicked Arnold's Pygmy Puff-Palace where it lay under her bed. On her shoulder, Arnold cheebled, alarmed. "Damn them both right to hell…" She scooped him into her palms to reassure him, kneading the fat, squishy Pygmy Puff in a way that calmed both of them.

It had been two weeks, now, since Draco had spoken to her – or Blaise, either, though that seemed to be more because his sympathy for Draco's anger than any ire of his own. She was still receiving his thoughtful flasks of hot chocolate when she got out of Quidditch practice – she credited that to sparing her getting sick the way the Ravenclaw team had. The constant sleet storms didn't stop her training her team constantly, but they sure as hell made it difficult. She'd had a miserable January, between the boys and Luna and the weather. The game against Slytherin had better go damn well.

That urge to make things well again spurred her into finally drawing out a piece of parchment, finding a quiet corner, and pondering what she could possibly write to Draco. She was painfully aware, in the wake of his long silence, how badly she'd upset him. Alright, it was a stupid thing to say – Blaise had outrightly and constantly denied ever being involved in anything Death-Eaterish, and they'd both dropped enough hints that Ginny knew Draco wasn't a Death Eater, or even a non-Marked, junior variant. What he _was_, if not a Death Eater, was unfathomable to her, but hadn't she even defended him against Neville, when he'd made much the same kind of remark?

_Dear Draco,_ she wrote tentatively - sticking with the old and classic opening seemed fitting, meaning he couldn't try and read anything into her note that wasn't there _right_ off the bat…

_I write with sincere apologies: I'm sorry for what I said to you, and I hope I haven't caused you pain or grief by it – my own heart is pained and grieved at the thought of that possibility._ The classical pureblood phrases were flowing out of her quill, her Aunt Muriel's teachings holding her in good stead. She hoped he'd understand what she meant by using them. She wanted to show that she was willing to speak in his terms – in noble terms, not the maniacal pureblood terms she'd accused him of holding to, in calling him a Death Eater.

She decided some of her own words wouldn't go astray, though. _I also hope you understand what prompted my unfortunate outburst. While all the righteous anger in the world doesn't excuse what I said, I know you're smart enough to take it in context. Anyway, just hoping that maybe this could at least help make things right between us?_

She idly ran a finger up and down the feathery ruffles of the quill before adding: _May Merlin walk before you, and Slytherin walk after you._ – _Ginny_. A fairly over-the-top ending, but she guessed ripping off the traditional blessing she'd seen her mother use sometimes in cards (only with, "and Gryffindor walk after you,") would help show Draco she really _wasn't_ prejudiced against him, didn't really think that just because he was a Slytherin, he had to be a Death Eater.

* * *

In the morning, she rose, groggy. After her shower, she sealed the letter hastily, so she could cram it in her bag and hurry down to breakfast – she'd post it with Pig, let him just fly it across the room.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, though, the Head Boy, resplendent in his green-trim robes (and devilishly sexy tan) was between her and the dining hall, wand out and eyes wide. He snagged her by the arm as soon as she was close and started dragging her away from breakfast, towards the doors of the castle. Before she could protest, he was babbling, frantically – "Ginny – thank goodness – you need to come, you need to see this – to save him."

Her brain kicked into overdrive as adrenaline coursed through her – Ginny sank immediately into what she considered 'DA mode.' Without any conscious thought, her wand was in her hand, poised, and in seconds, she was running flat-out, Blaise only barely keeping ahead of her.

"Here –" he herded her, gasping, as they barreled through the main doors of Hogwarts and out into a weakly sunny morning – "over here, that's where I saw it, and then Draco went to investigate and told me to get backup…"

They weaved through trees, across a gravelly path, and looped back behind one of the towers. Blaise slowed, cautious, but Ginny saw a flash of movement in the shadows, further back in the shadowy alley between two of the castles' battlements, and followed it, heedless.

Her heart sank into her toes when she caught up. Muddy, animal eyes whirled to glare at her, and the man's face sneered – he huffed out a lungful of stale air as he panted, watching her. He scraped a hoof, eagerly. _Centaur. A wild one, one with all its animal instincts in place…_ And dangling helplessly, unconscious, from one huge hand – Draco. Draco mostly stripped, clothes ripped from him, looking battered. A laugh sounded behind her. Ginny whirled, and saw the man who had to have directed the centaur, brought it here, and sicced in on Draco – she screamed, voice cracking and echoing off the towers around her in the tight space, trapped between a centaur… and Lucius Malfoy.

"Ginny!" Blaise hollered, and that was when Mr. Malfoy's leering face dissolved, almost melting, back into nothing but shadow. She spun back around to face the centaur – it too was melting, as was Draco's form. Disapperating? Disappearing? No… her brain coldly processed the possibilities – just fading. Fading as any _illusion_ cast by a seventh year was bound to do after a moment or two.

Her wand was forgotten as Blaise charged up, looking as helpful and innocent as you please. She squared off to face him and simply let fly, her fist sailing into his stomach and bowling him over with a 'hooophf!'

The sound reminded Ginny of the illusory centaur's lust-drenched panting and she shivered. Instead of running off in fury as her instincts urged, she stood over him and demanded, "_What_ did you do that for?"

"Make things alright – between you and Draco – the way you did between he and I," Blaise choked out, before dissolving into a coughing fit.

She stood so her feet straddled his hips, letting her glare down directly into his beet-red face. "I made things better by _letting you grope me_. You think it's fair turnabout to make me think Draco's been _raped_, and I'm _next_?"

"You're – what? No – it was just so you'd see what real rapist bastards were like, and real Death Eaters. You weren't meant to think – it wasn't supposed to be that you were in any _danger_ – I stopped it as soon as you screamed… I didn't…"

She was already walking away in a fit of incendiary fury back into the castle, bee-lining for the Great Hall.

"Did you have any idea what your boyfriend just pulled?" she hissed to Draco, who was paler than normal with shock at the way she'd strode up to the Slytherin table, and the way her anger laced through the question. Mute, he shook his head. She chucked her sloppily sealed envelope at him (neatly lobbing it past his scrambled eggs, for which she blessed her Quidditch skills.) "Read it," she growled. "Read it, and ask your raging dickhead of a boyfriend what just happened… and, know that I wrote this last night."

She swiped a plate of pancakes from next to Pansy Parkinson's elbow, and stalked off.

* * *

"Lucius," Draco repeated, burying his face in his palms. "You needed a Death Eater for your little diorama, and you naturally settle on _Lucius?!_"

Weakly, Blaise explained, "I needed one I knew she'd recognize – otherwise it kind of defeated the point of the demonstration." If he'd had any idea how badly Draco was going to take the use of his father's image in the prank, he'd never have done it. Timidly, he pointed out, "No offense but… he is one of the best known, both for what he did, and for facial recognition."

"You _stupid_ prat," Draco ground out – "Ginny's _fought_ Death Eaters, it's not like she'd have had a hard time figuring it out if you'd used someone else – anyone else –"

Defensive, Blaise broke in – "Look. I don't know why you're being so sensitive about me using your father my example, I wouldn't have done it that way if I'd known it would bother you so much…"

Draco removed the pillow he'd just hugged to his face. "Bother _me_? Why in hell would the image of Lucius Malfoy bother me?! I've lived with the bloody bastard for 17 years, it's not like I give a flying fuck. I mean, _I'm_ not the one he's tried to kill in two separate fights over the last two years – and more importantly, _I'm_ not the one who he gave an evil, psychotic diary to that made me lose a year of my life and nearly kill several of my favorite people. So _I've_ no reason to be scarred by the very idea of Lucius Malfoy."

"Evil diary?... _Oh._" Blaise's realization hung in the air a few moments, then he swallowed and admitted, whisper-quiet, "I didn't know that was your dad that did that."

"It is not, thank Merlin, a fact that comes up in casual conversation," Draco said dully.

"So when she saw what had happened to 'Draco' – and saw Lucius… aw, _shit_."

"Yep." Draco's lips were thin, eyebrows raised, his face the very picture of 'way to go, idiot.'

"Didn't think that – didn't mean…"

Blaise was earnestly repentant – annoyed as Draco was with Blaise, and with Gin, and with this whole bloody argument, he took pity on his boyfriend. "Didn't mean it the way it came out? Of course you didn't. And," he sighed heavily, fidgeting with the folded parchment Ginny had passed him, "neither did she… And 'didn't think that' – what, didn't think one of your cute innocent little pranks could be taken as something more malicious?"

Blaise eyed the note from Ginny. "She's so fucking furious with me."

"Yep." Draco flipped her letter through his fingers another few times, studying it. Then he shoved it into his pocket, and sprawled across the bed to rummage underneath it.

Popping back up, he was clutching parchment, quill and ink. Ripping the parchment in two, he offered half to Blaise, who took it, summoned his own quill obligingly, and then sat back on his heels, waiting to see what they were doing.

"I've got an apology to accept," Draco explained, "And _you've_ got one to offer."

Blaise nodded, poised his quill to dip and start writing, and then paused. "Draco – I'm sorry – you know, for dragging you into the whole mad scheme with the Pleasure Snitch in the first place, and all that."

Looking up from the first line of his scribbled reply, Draco gave his boyfriend an honest smile. "I appreciate that, Blaise. Thanks."

* * *

_A.N. - Hey folks! Here's your update! And the next chapter, by the way, is looking to be 1, long, and 2, explicit. You may commence rejoicing. Oh, and to answer the question I posed last chapter: Yes, it was Molly's heart-to-heart with Ginny about "your father and I" that I ripped from real life. Ugh. Unfortunate._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_From list of homework Ginny has not yet completed:_

_seven pages on Horwozits flowers, redo the quiz I bombed.__  
read Transfiguration chapters 11-13 from two weeks ago, ch. 14-17 from last week, ch. 18-20 for this week.  
copy Colin's star charts from this month's observation (NB: stop sketching out Quidditch plays on star charting paper)_

_From Blaise and Draco's anxious monitoring of the FOTA:_

_26-1-98 – owls with letters posted today__  
27-1-98 – no Ginny sightings at all today__  
28-1-98 – no idea where she is because we were at the pitch all day, thanks a fucking lot, Draco.  
29-1-98 – spotted several times but always with Neville  
30-1-98 – well, we'll see her at the game at least…_

* * *

In the hazy period between practice and sleep, when Ginny was making a half-assed effort at completing assignments due days (or possibly weeks) ago, she received the letters – the owl was quite insistent that she take them, circling her head and prompting some laughs from the Gryffindor Common Room. Still somewhat disgusted with the Slytherins, she blazed through both letters, then, frustrated with the world, abandoned the three-scroll History essay she'd been working on, and collapsed into sleep.

The next morning, she lay in bed till breakfast contemplating the boys' letters, rereading each. Then she locked them in her trunk and went to snag a glass of juice and crust of toast before the morning practice – the food would have to last her through the afternoon practice, because she and Demelza were giving up lunch to work on passes.

Besides, the boys' notes made for food for thought...

* * *

Draco was sluggish in the morning – Blaise tried to wake him up, feeling admittedly a little desperate. What with the drama of the week, they hadn't gotten to tend each other's needs since before Blaise's spectacular failure at reconciling Ginny and Draco.

But after a moment of semi-alert grouchiness, Blaise pulled back, telling himself it was just the excesses of Quidditch, thanks to preparations for the upcoming game, that was making Draco groggy and snappy - not any remnant of the unpleasantness of the week, right?

He couldn't help seeing it all as a fascinatingly bittersweet commentary on how well they'd enmeshed themselves in each others' lives, though. Why would any of them have bothered continuing their fight if they didn't give a flying fuck? Even Ginny's insult to them – would she have felt as betrayed by his admittedly brassy prank with the 'Snitch' if she hadn't, previously, felt a lot more intimately close to himself and his boyfriend than she'd let on, so far in the year?

Didn't the fact that his usually apathetic boyfriend and himself grew so irritated by the silly bint mean quite a bit?

His spot of amateur psychology done for the morning, Blaise hauled himself down to the Great Hall for a late breakfast, spoiled only by the paranoid mutterings of Slytherin's Chasers, who were speculating on the possible ploys of the "Weasley bitch." Increasingly fed up, Blaise finally commented loudly to one of them, in his most fey voice: "Who cares about winning or losing? Lots of fit blokes and bints in leather – I'm going to enjoy the match one way or another!"

He saw Eickerson shoot him a small grin at the jest, but his comment served to instill some peace and silence at the table – the rest of the Chasers looked slightly queasy, leaving Blaise to enjoy his omelet without further distasteful comments about his favorite redhead.

* * *

Quidditch. Class. Scattered bouts of nearly drowning in the prefects' bath. Sleep, which barely registered on Ginny's consciousness except to note the temporary lapse in her constant calculations of strategy. More Quidditch, more class.

"So, the match's tomorrow, isn't it?" commented Neville on Friday morning.

She disdained a response, focusing her attention instead on procuring a bagel – on Erin's recommendation, the entire team was doing something called 'carb-loading.' It left Ginny feeling stuffed full, but didn't seem to slow her down on a broom, so she allowed the team to pursue it. If anything else, she thought it might provide a boost to their optimism.

"My Gran's coming," Neville continued. "To watch it."

Bill had talked, over Christmas, about coming, to see 'good beat evil, at least _somewhere_ in this cursed country.' Her dad had talked him out of it, pointing out the security risks to a known member of the Order in attendance at a match governed by Death Eaters.

"She wants to ensure it's run fairly. And… you know, to make sure nothing else… dodgy… occurs."

At that, finally, she fixed Neville with a curious stare. "Since when does your gran give two hoots about Quidditch?" She seemed to remember Charlie complaining, in fact, about Augusta Longbottom trying to interfere in the Quidditch Cup back in his day, trying to halt it because she didn't think one of her granddaughters should play.

"Since she got out of me right before break the whole 'I've been in detention every day since school started' story. Also the 'Professor Carrow was verbally abusing you' story. And details about Dark Arts classes. And Muggle Studies." His face, furrowed in a concerned frown, cleared then. "But… if you didn't know I'd told Gran, I suppose she didn't tell your mum, like she said she would?"

"What?" Ginny asked, confused, but even before Neville could elaborate, she remembered her mother's attempts to sit her down for a good long talk. _Oh, _damn, _I've been stupid_, she scolded herself. Of course Neville hadn't passed on anything to Augusta Longbottom about her and Draco and Blaise. Of course that hadn't been what her mum had been concerned about…

Neville was muttering apologies and explanations – "You know how she is, can't keep things from her… Glad she didn't tell your mum, I knew she'd probably be having kittens over it…" – but Ginny's mind was a million miles away. She owed some apologies, herself, for pushing away the Slytherins.

_Then again,_ she told herself humorlessly,_ the apologies probably all cancel each other out by now, there's so many owed between the three of us…_

* * *

The entire Quidditch team, tense with pre-game jitters, was focused on her. Ginny took a deep breath, and gambled on Slytherin calculations. "Nicholas – don't look for the Snitch. Just spend the majority of the game helping out Jimmy and Ritchie, trying to foul up Slythern's Chasers."

Nicholas, and the rest of the team, gaped at her. She elaborated: "The Slytherin Seeker is almost certainly going to be under orders not to catch the Snitch until they can rack up enough points – if they only gain the 150 points from an immediate win, they don't really improve their ranking – they're still only second place." (At present they were tied with Hufflepuff, with Gryffindor in first and Ravenclaw in last.)

Nicholas grinned, clearly supremely confident now she'd explained the logic – her stomach knotted. She wished she had his faith in her 'genius.' She turned to her Chasers – "So we've got to be absolutely wildly aggressive, folks – they will be, too. We can't let them get too many points, and that means _we_ need to be scoring them ourselves. _Are we clear?_"

"_Hell, yeah!_" they roared back, and the team launched into its warm-up routines.

* * *

To Slytherin's dismay, Gryffindor came on strong, scoring two goals in fifteen minutes. But by great good fortune, Erin Johnson, Ginny's youngest Chaser, flubbed a pass, and Slytherin capitalized on it and scored themselves.

Draco, sullen, circled idly, watching play progress and thinking sour thoughts about Abrams, the captain. He'd started out, as ordered, tailing Nicholas, to interfere if he tried to catch the Snitch, but it quickly became clear the second-year was going to do no such thing. A trickle of worry wriggled down Draco's spine at the curious coincidence of the Gryffindor Seeker appearing to have the same goals as himself. But then the boy zipped around the field, mixing it up with the Chasers, and he relaxed slightly. Perhaps the twelve year old was just being a dumbass. That would suit Draco quite well.

He circled some more, grumping to himself about the uselessness of his House's Chasers, as Ginny scored yet another goal. 30-10. Bugger.

* * *

Lav was in top form. Demelza was a holy terror. Erin, Ginny hoped, had gotten over her nerves. Jimmy and Ritchie were absolutely brutal in their persecution of the Slytherin Chasers, and Nicholas was flitting about like an imp, re-focusing his Seeking skills to intercept green-clad Chasers instead,which seemed to be seriously disorienting to Slytherin's offense. Ginny herself was exultant, proud of her team, and that let her make an impossibly steep climb to avoid a Bludger and hang on to the Quaffle long enough to hurl it past Abrams.

Then Jimmy squawked – looking back, she saw him barely keep his seat. The whistle blew – "Cobbing! Penalty shot for Gryffindor!" Ginny motioned for Erin to take it – she was ace at penalties, and earning the ten points would help steady her. That would make maybe 50 points just in the last seven or eight minutes.

Slytherin's Chasers were looking haunted. As Erin lined up the shot, Ginny searched the skies for Draco, spotting him banking lazily against the background of a cloud. Maybe it was just the pity she felt for him, ordered to remain idle and leave his team's fate with the offense, but she wondered, had she ever noticed how delicious he looked on a broom? She was noticing now – Gin shifted, fidgety, on her broom before swooping off again to flock with Demelza in a harrying move against the lead Slytherin Chaser.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, it was unmistakable: the Slytherin side had crumbled, was utterly demoralized. Maybe it was Ginny's fabulous, acrobatic goal, maybe it was that unnecessary cobbing penalty – sheer sloppiness – or maybe it was the way the math slid increasingly against them all game long, but the Snakes' House was broken. It was 230-20. Their hopes to better their rank from second place were blown out of the water now – not to mention their hopes of winning the game.

If Abrams kept up the futile attempt to score, he was just going to give Gryffindor more chances to rack up points, and then they'd be tied with Ravenclaw for last place. Nicholas, blessed with an _intelligent_ captain, had long since returned to Seeking duties, but Draco, tracking both Gryffindor's Seeker and the Snitch, saw the second-year wasn't even close to catching it.

He growled: Gryffindor had possession – again – and was verging on scoring the twenty-second goal, the goal that would sink Slytherin down to Ravenclaw's last-place level in the rankings. With a frustrated sigh, nearly a sob, he dove, skimming the grass of the pitch.

* * *

The delight of pounding in goal after goal past a despairing Abrams had Ginny feeling as though she could keep playing all afternoon and well after dark, to boot. So when the chimes sounded, marking the end of the game, she was half-inclined to rag on Nicholas for ruining her fun.

Then she spotted a grimacing, pointed pale face directed her way. And Draco, from where he stood on the grass, opened his hand to reveal the glint of gold, tamely fluttering in his palm. 230-170, the scoreboard read. "Sonnovabitch," Ginny muttered, partially out of dismay, partially grudging admiration.

"Bastard stole our amazing lead," Demelza groaned.

"But all we needed was the win to stay on top," Ginny pointed out, and with their narrow win as consolation they flew down to join Erin and Nicholas's group hug.

After showering and putting on clean clothes, the team gathered in the main area of the locker room for a small group celebration. Ginny broke out some of the last of her Godiva's liquor-based candies. Demelza ensured several of them were pressed on Nicholas, to help him past his personal disappointment in not catching the Snitch. The rest of the team was enthralled with Ginny for the way she'd figured out and broken the Slytherin team. She was blushing furiously, and growing more and more uncomfortable. And too, she was starting to wonder, and worry, about the Quidditch-mad boy she'd realized, over the past week, she actually cared a fair bit about.

When everyone else started wandering back up to the castle, she slipped around the back wall of Gryffindor's changing-rooms, to the identical building that housed Slytherin's.

After five minutes, she'd seen all of their team leave for the castle, save Draco. She came out of hiding, waiting by the door. After another five minutes of thinking, _'Right, nothing weird about hanging around outside the Slytherin locker room,'_ she started contemplating ways to haul him out without going in after him. Finally, she recalled how they'd broken free of Draco and his Inquisitorial Squad her fourth year. If he remembered it with any clarity, then he should recognize… "Expecto patronum," she hissed, sending a silvery mare into the locker room and hoping like hell she'd counted right and Draco was indeed the only one still there.

"Ginny?" came a startled call in Draco's voice.

"Yeah," she confirmed.

"Oops. Been waiting long?"

"A bit."

After half a second, his voice rang out – "Come on in, then."

She looked around quickly, adjusting her grip on her wand, and swallowing, stepped in. The facilities were identical to Gryffindor's own. Around the corner, she came across a shirtless Draco, laying back on a bench, eyes closed and wet hair sticking up in tufts. When she appeared, though, he opened his eyes and hopped up, hand extended. "Brilliantly played match, Weasley."

"Brilliant tactical stroke, at the end there," she replied.

They exchanged rueful smiles. "You got –" he tried after a halting pause, at the same instant Ginny stated, "I got your-"

They both stopped, Ginny laughing, Draco smiling lopsidedly. "You got our letters, then."

"I did," she said simply, and when his eyes met hers, looking for elaboration, she took a half-step closer, slipping her arms around his waist, and kissed him gently. She couldn't help a happy little sigh when their mouths parted again: "You smell delicious," she told him.

"You taste delicious," was his suave reply, and he proved his sincerity by plunging his tongue into her mouth. Reluctantly, Draco let go of her eventually, and shrugged on a robe. In content silence, they strolled up to Hogwarts, Ginny on Draco's arm.

Just inside the Entrance Hall, Blaise ambushed them. "Draco! There you are – alright? And – Gin!" His delight was obvious. "We're pax now, right?" Nearly before Draco or Ginny could nod answers, he had insinuated himself between the two, guiding them down a corridor.

They arrived shortly at the portrait of the alabaster angel, where Blaise, in a fit of tact, paused long enough to let Ginny give the password herself. But the moment they were situated on the broken couch in Ginny's workshop, Blaise set about making himself at home, kicking up his feet and summoning a house elf, which brought him champagne. Ginny shot a furtive look at Draco, worrying he would reject any trace of celebration after Slytherin's loss.

Blaise caught her look: "I'd like to propose a toast, not to either team, but to myself," he informed them.

Reassured, or at least seized with curiosity, Draco accepted a flute of champagne, so Ginny did as well. Raising his own, Blaise pronounced, "To me, for having two fucking hot Quidditch players as mates. It's like a girl's wet dream and a guy's, together in the form of you two." He smirked. "I fucking love my life." Ginny preened, and Draco gave a reluctant chuckle. Blaise treated them each with champagne-tasting kisses.

Shortly, they'd all shrugged off their robes, meaning Draco was again shirtless. But he was only idly tracing his hands across Blaise and Ginny's bums as they stood necking in the middle of the room, Ginny daringly leaving a half-circle of hickeys around Blaise's neck as he worked one hand up the front of her shirt and another up the back of her thigh. His fingers were doing amazing things to her increasingly fuzzy mind and thought process, but when he paused a moment to strip her of her blouse, the break in the pleasurable onslaught meant she could force open her eyes, and spot the way Draco was sitting back, aloof.

She broke free from Blaise's embrace (conveniently leaving her shirt in his hands) and perched next to Draco on the couch. Shy, but curious, she asked, "Do you… like what you see?"

Never having gotten a good look at a topless Ginny, he ran his eyes over her, appreciating how much better it was in real life to see the tops of those cinnamon-dusted breasts swelling under her bra. Blaise's breathy descriptions in his ear over winter break had been fantastic, but didn't do them justice. He ran his palm around her breasts gently, the heat of his touch seeming to melt into her nipples, and leaving her in no doubt of his attraction to her.

She grinned and leaned forward, kissing him deeply and letting the lace material of her little yellow bra rasp across his bare chest. To the other side of Draco she felt movement – shifting back again, she saw Blaise settle in, apparently to take up Draco's role sitting back and observing. Both boys were studying her with glittering, curious eyes. She swallowed hard and asked Draco, "If I were to give you a consolation prize…" she put a hand on the fine downy blonde hairs just above the waistband of his trousers, "would you accept it?"

Draco met her question with a mysterious smile, letting the silence linger uncomfortably long. She was wondering whether she'd be better off keeping her hands to herself, when she became aware of Blaise hissing under his breath, "Please say yes for the love of little pixies tell her yes dear Merlin yes."

Draco chuckled. "Sorry, what's that? Didn't catch it."

Blaise, whose fists were now clenched into tight balls with anticipation, repeated loudly, "The answer you're looking for is YES."

Ginny grinned, beginning to appreciate the fun of toying with Blaise. Draco asked dryly, "Is 'yes' an acceptable answer to you, Miss Weasley?"

She frowned. "Well. I suppose we can work with a 'yes.'" And finally, to both boys' delight, she undid Draco's trousers. He lay back against the worn sofa cushion, wriggling his hips to help her when she worked his trousers off, but otherwise just watching, arms at his sides, letting her do whatever she liked. Just that thought made her blush, but steeling herself she continued delicately peeling away his silky white boxers, exercising the greatest care not to touch the bulge of his hard-on – yet.

So when she'd worked off all of his clothes, he was nearly quivering at attention. She had to pause a moment just to take in the sight of Draco naked. "Peaches and cream, isn't he?" Blaise commented hungrily, and she had to agree – his flesh was all ivory, crowned with rosy pink.

He, and his cock, were so attractive-looking, it made it so easy to reach out and grasp him. Draco himself said nothing, just met her eyes intently, inviting her to continue, but Blaise made a blissful noise and began rustling, fussing with… something. Ginny assumed he was adjusting himself, but didn't look – keeping her gaze locked on Draco she began exploring with her fingertips.

When her motions grew more confident, Draco seemed to decide he'd allowed her sufficient time to get over being shy. He tugged her wrist, pulling her over to curl up against his side. When she was settled there, he thrust against her palm, which was rubbing up and down his length. She took the hint, wrapping her hand around him. Both boys hissed with excitement, and she had to bite back an inappropriate jibe about Slytherin serpents.

As she started tentatively stroking her hand up and down Draco, his hand shot out to grasp her breast, firmly working it out of the cup of her bra to play with. Completely unconsciously, she writhed against his side, quickening her stroke, as he swirled a thumb around her nipple. He obligingly undid her bra to get easier access, and grinned to Blaise, on his other side, making a 'watch this' face to his boyfriend. His hand slowed, drawing tender, delicate circles around base of her breasts, and with a hum of pleasure from Ginny, her back arched – and her movements slowed down to a steady, leisurely stroke.

Blaise arched an eyebrow at the demonstration, challenging Draco to show him it wasn't a fluke. Draco's response was to give a wicked grin, and bend his face down to the nipple nearest him. He flicked his tongue over it rapidly. Ginny's hand on him sped up. Blaise stifled a chuckle and returned his attention to what he had in his own hand – and, of course, to Ginny's face, as she intently wanked his boyfriend.

Attuned as he was to Draco's body, and exciting and new as Ginny's was, Blaise was on the edge of losing it just watching the two caress each other. Particularly with the novelty of Ginny's feminine moans, and seeing the signs Draco was closer and closer to orgasm… Blaise, seeing Draco's tension, seeing how frantically his hands were rushing across Ginny's chest now, decided to lend a hand.

When she felt two more hands massaging her breasts, Ginny nearly swooned for a moment. But Draco's breathing was harsh and hot on her neck, and though her arm felt like it might fall off, she was so eager to see the climax of her efforts… Blaise's long nails traced between her breasts, up and around, tighter and tighter in little circles until he was running them directly over her nipples and sending surges of electricity down her spine and straight into her groin. The waves of lust egged her on to get Draco off, and as his and Blaise's hands ran up and down her torso she put all her effort into her last strokes, to a quite satisfying result.

When Draco had cleaned off and pulled his boxers back on, both boys' breathing eased. Ginny, though, was still worked up, and all the more so when she finally realized that Blaise had slipped his own erection out and had been watching, and wanking. She was all set to clamber over Draco's lap and set to work on Blaise next, despite how her arm was throbbing from the unaccustomed exercise.

Blaise, though, had two goals in mind, and neither included letting Ginny wear herself out on his behalf. He slipped between Draco and Ginny on the couch, Draco sleepily but good-naturedly shoving over to give him room. When he settled in, his cock bobbled. Ginny and Draco, entranced, both immediately reached for it. Draco's had been defined in Ginny's mind by impressive length; Blaise had less length but more girth, making it just as much of a revelation for Ginny to wrap her hand around. But: "Your arm's in my way," he told Gin politely, and automatically, she released him, which let Blaise reach over into her lap and run his hand up the front of her skirt.

All thoughts of stroking Blaise quickly escaped her, because Blaise's fingers were stroking the damp lace of her knickers and Draco was taking over possession of Blaise's erection, stroking it with smooth, powerful, practiced motions. Eyes glued to what Draco was doing to Blaise, Ginny responded as if in a trance to what Blaise was doing to her, sliding her hips up so that Blaise's fingers pressed firmly against her, and hooking her fingers in the waistband of her knickers, tugging them down and kicking them off. She'd left her skirt on, out of shyness, but Blaise blithely ignored that touch of modesty and flipped it up.

Ginny's face burned at the rapt expressions on Blaise's face, as he tentatively ran fingers through her reddish-brown curls, and Draco's face, as he watched but also unrelentingly caressed Blaise. Then his finger parted her lips and she had to fight to keep her eyes open to watch what Draco was doing, had to fight her own body to keep from bucking her hips, or moaning obscenities. When an ecstatic "_Ohhh!_" slipped out, though, and she saw Blaise shudder slightly in response, she fought then to _relinquish_ control.

In no time at all, she found herself calling out both boys' names, alternating with 'fuck,' and writing under Blaise's dedicated touch. When she came back down from her rapid climax, she snuggled against Blaise's side – his hand still between her legs – curling her head on his chest and reaching out to fondle Blaise as well. Shortly she and Draco had brought him to the same state of bliss that they'd enjoyed.

While Draco was cleaning up, Ginny's stomach knotted a bit with nerves. As entrancing as the sight of Draco pleasuring Blaise was, his expertise made her despair of her own efforts, as had the way Blaise's finger expertly explored her. She had exactly one comparable experience, with Dean, though his pants, and afterwards he'd cleaned up, did up his trousers again, and ran off to do homework, so she probably hadn't even done _that_ right.

Preparing to flee on a moment's notice, she avoided meeting the boys' eyes, leaning over to fetch her knickers from the floor. As she scooped them up, though, Blaise scolded lightly from behind her, "Ah-ah-ah…"

Yellow lace dangling from her fingertips, she turned to ask, "What?"

Draco and Blaise had inched apart, leaving an inviting space for her. "If you put those on, you have to take off the skirt," Draco informed her seriously.

"We _would_ cuddle naked," Blaise added, "but that might, ah, _give rise_ to complications. So it's a one-item limit – no more clothes, no less." She looked from Draco, in his skivvies, to Blaise, who'd chosen to keep his shirt and ditch his boxers, and decided she didn't want to be bare-arsed around the randy raven-haired boy. She slid the panties up under the skirt first, before shucking it, then gingerly took the indicated spot. A brief tug-of-war ensued – Blaise tugged her into his arms, and Draco, after glowering a bit, settled his head on Ginny's chest.

Ginny tried to protest briefly, "I have Transfiguration homework to do."

Even before the boys tightened their grip on her in response, Blaise clenching his arms firmly round her waist, Draco twining both his legs round one of hers, she knew her protest was futile – the warmth of their bodies, and Blaise's fingers running through her hair, and Draco's thumb absently tracing circles on her hip, were lulling her so effectively she didn't think she'd ever be able to move again. "What's to worry about, love? You're the heroine of Gryffindor right now. The old cat'll leave you alone," Blaise assured her, amused.

With that she gave up protesting, and just soaked in the warmth.

* * *

_A.N. - Wow. The only chapter longer than this one is the Hogsmeade date. And it's certainly the smuttiest yet - yet published, anyway. I have most of the final chapters sketched out and, hmm, this has nothing on those. (wicked grin.) But be warned - from now on, there'll probably be a scene as, or nearly as graphic as this, in every chapter. Hope no one has a problem with that, hehe._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_From the private misgivings Blaise ponders before sleeping at night:  
What if Ginny turns out to have limits she won't cross?  
__What if she likes both of us but doesn't appreciate us together?  
__What if I do something stupid again that drives them away?  
What if I get Draco in trouble for dragging him away from the Malfoy Path? Or Ginny by not helping her with her personal crusades?_

* * *

Ginny had expected to be beset with questions about her whereabouts the night before, after the Quidditch game. But as it happened, everyone was much more concerned with Neville's whereabouts – it transpired that he, too, had been missing all night.

It was Terry Boot, at breakfast, who Ginny finally got an explanation from – she'd been wary of asking any of her fellow Gryffindors for fear of raising questions, but of all the DA, Terry had been her confidante throughout her and Michael Corner's relationship, and had been just as amiable after, when Michael wasn't speaking to her. It appeared that Neville had, halfway through the game, snuck back to the castle and _somehow_ found his way into the teacher's chambers – not their actual rooms, Terry assured Ginny, his shock at Neville's boldness written across his face, but into the corridor that was sealed to students - and had reportedly plastered the walls with lurid writing: 'Go Gryffindor! The Light will always win!' seemed to be the common theme.

It was no wonder everyone was wild with concern. Romilda Vane had been insisting Neville was even now in the deepest cells of the Dark Lord's stronghold. Ginny thanked Terry for his much less melodramatic, much more factual account, and snagged a cinnamon roll, heading for the most obvious possible place for anyone to vanish to overnight.

* * *

Sure enough, Neville was curled up in a bed in the hospital wing, asleep. "Go ahead and wake him up," Madame Pomfrey encouraged her. "I wanted to get some more of this into him –" gesturing to a carton of chocolate milk. Ginny's heart sank. She still remembered her mother pressing chocolate, in both liquid and solid forms, on Ron after his brushes with Dark magic.

So when she gently shook Neville awake and he jumped, frightened, she was sad but unsurprised. She held his hand, assured him it was OK, and sat back obediently to let Madame Pomfrey dose him with a few tall glasses of milk. When he'd drank them down, his barely perceptible tremor, which she'd only just then noticed, finally ceased. "What was it?" she asked when he was sitting upright, spine straight.

"Incensorso, mostly, and a touch of Cruciatus."

She shuddered – quite aside from knowing his particular horror of Cruciatus, one of Tonk's Auror friends had described the Incensoro curse to her and Bill over the summer – black magic that made the victim feel like they were being smothered to death in smoking-hot ashes, including the conviction that the imaginary ashes were those of dead people. "_Why?_" she asked, despairingly.

"I was angry," he said simply. She sighed, and left it at that, focusing on helping him back to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Ginny had expected that, with no Quidditch games for the next two months, she'd finally have a break in her harried life. She'd _hoped_ that she would fill that time with liaisons with Blaise and Draco, now that she'd discovered that she could waste most of an entire night just cuddling with the boys, not to mention… well. It turned out the boys were good for many things. But instead, come Monday, life turned upside down.

"We will be beginning," Amycus Carrow pronounced with a sadistic glare around the room, "the Cruciatus curse." A chill fell across the room. Even the Slytherin sixth-years looked wary, and when Amycus brought out a cage of mice, Polly Nott, one of the most cruel seventh-year prefect's cousins, burst into tears.

Life at Hogwarts had taken a grim turn.

Despite her horror of losing her captaincy, or worse, going the way of poor Luna, Ginny was drawn back into the DA's work – or elements of it, anyway. Stupid, flashy moves that Neville was in love with, she scorned. She'd seen too much real terror and pain to get any vindication out of slashing all the Great Hall's Slytherin banners to shreds. But she couldn't not help: the Carrows and their prefects seemed to have a particularly hateful streak of malice towards the first years, seeing them as malleable subjects to be molded into good citizens of the Death Eaters' reign.

Whenever she could, Ginny escaped to the library, for (depressingly platonic) studying with Draco and Blaise. But when first years began being chained up for nightly bouts of 'reeducation,' she sought them out in the hall between classes, not caring who was watching.

When she folded into Blaise's arms, crying, Draco quickly set an illusion over her, and for once, the boys hustled her down to Slytherin's dorms rather than up to Gryffindor. Blaise massaged her back, and Draco kissed each of her tears as they fell. When they started trying to hold her and comfort her with 'there, there's and 'it'll be okay's, though, she looked up at them, incredulous, and they realized it wasn't grief that had driven her to tears – no, it was a potent mixture of rage and frustration.

"If it does wind up 'all okay,' it's only going to be thanks to someone _doing_ something, she said, and despite her ominous words, the glint in her eye and the fixed stare on her face gave Draco a swell of affection for her.

Being a Gryffindor, and a Weasley, the little contrarian immediately challenged the limits of that affection. "So _I'm_ going to do something, and you lot will help me."

"Oh, we will?" Draco asked archly. Now the full force of that intent glower was on him.

"You will, or I'll get caught, and you'll get to have the singular pleasure of practicing Cruciatus on me in Dark Arts class when we switch from mice to kids with detentions."

Draco blanched. "Where'd you hear that?!"

Grim-faced, but with a deliberately light, airy tone, she replied, "Oh, Professor Carrow made sure to take me aside and let me know what was in store for blood traitor slags such as myself." She offered Blaise a wry look. "He may not have any memory of me knocking him out, but he's definitely kept the sense of hatred since then…"

Draco was still hung up on the future of Dark Arts classes, spluttering that maybe Amycus was just threatening her. Blaise gave Draco a squeeze, reluctantly telling him, "No, that really is their plan." At Draco's wounded look, he shrugged uncomfortably. "They told the Heads. Seemed to think we'd get our jollies from it."

"Since you're so appalled," Ginny leapt on Draco, "you can help me figure out how to free the first years." She wore a triumphant look.

Draco looked askance at her – while being made to cast Cruciatus in class would bring back the nightmares of last summer, getting in trouble and having it used on _him_ would bring back seventeen years of nightmares. But his damn boyfriend was studying Ginny with a light in his eyes, his lips quirking up in the same little grin of excitement he got when contemplating a prank. "This isn't one of your dumb tricks, Blaise," he said warningly.

Blaise's grin became broad, showing teeth. "Yeah, I know – it's even better."

Draco looked between Blaise's gleeful face to Ginny's rapt, fanatical expression. His groin tightened – _not helpful_, he thought, and sighed.

Ginny seemed to take the sigh as a sign of weakness. "Come on – you know I'll never pull it off without Slytherin wiles to back up all my blind Gryffindor courage!"

He growled, but knew he'd lost when Blaise sided with Ginny. "Fine. Only for your own good," he said shortly.

Blaise threw a pillow in the air. "What fun. We should celebrate!"

"No – we should swear. A pact, you know – not to _back out_," Ginny insisted.

"Here's a compromise," Blaise negotiated, before Draco could say something sharp to Gin. "I've an idea for a celebration _and_ a pledge that'll be much more useful than a pinkie swear." He paused, studied his pinkie for a moment, and murmured, "Well, we could work that in, too… Anyway," he continued on normally, "we'll pledge our fealty to you, Gin." And his hand went to the zipper of her jeans.

She gave him a dark look – "That _would_ be your idea of 'pledging fealty.'" But noticing that Draco finally had an expression on his face that was neither mutinous nor resentful, but rather quite interested, she shrugged, letting Blaise undo her jeans while she sloughed off her robes and started on Draco's. Two moments later found Ginny naked. She'd have been shy about being entirely unclothed for the first time around the boys, but they were nude as well and snuggled against either side of her, running hands across her belly and thighs. "I've gotta say, having a bed seems to be an improvement," she murmured.

"Oh, indeed," Blaise promised, and they set about proving it, both boys' hands kneading, stroking – Blaise did startling things with his nails, rasping them over Ginny's wetness to draw shudders from her. And he did put his pinkie to use – while one hand massaged Ginny's mound, his other was grabbing Draco's arse. When he saw Ginny was watching hungrily, he conjured a small amount of oil to anoint it with, and ran it down Draco's back, right down the line of his arse and, with a wink to Ginny, deep into Draco, who immediately bucked and growled.

"Well!" he gasped, "if that's how we're playing…" and without warning, plunged his index finger into Gin. To her intense horror, she mewled.

"I think our little kitten likes it," Blaise commented with a deep chuckle.

"She does," Gin retorted, and moaning, directed Draco, "Don't stop."

Since Blaise had Draco well in hand, and Draco was down between her legs and out of reach, she took Blaise's erection in her hand, making him groan.

Draco thrust harder, then slipped another finger in. She was stretched in a way that twinged, but mostly excited her. When Draco nosed Blaise's hand away from her clit, though, and inclined his lips to her, she inched away slightly.

"No?" he inquired, only a small measure of disappointment in his voice. She shook her head, so he went back to pumping his fingers, adding some sort of twist or gesture that sent a spasm of bliss rolling over her with each plunge.

Blaise, both hands on, or in, his two favorite partners, and Ginny stroking him steadily, hit his peak first, jabbing deep into Draco, his other hand leaving Ginny's clit to grab for her breast instead – with her flesh clutched in his hand, he exploded in her hand, much to her pleasure. After a quick 'Evanesco,' he slid his fingers from Draco, who whined.

"Hush, you cur," Blaise mockingly scolded. "Swing your hips around, there's a lad."

Draco nimbly shifted, presenting Ginny with a full-on view of his torso. Then Blaise leaned in, pressed his lips to Draco's hip, and both Draco and Ginny moaned lightly. Blaise grinned widely, but not for long, because he was engulfing Draco, lips closing over him – Draco moaned much louder, and his fingers in Ginny became more spasmodic, but that was fine, because watching Blaise take Draco in his mouth, Ginny was rushing quickly over the edge. When he felt her tighten around his fingers in climax, Draco withdrew them, and in a haze, laid his head on Ginny's thigh, closing his eyes and giving himself over to his boyfriend.

When they were all getting dressed, Blaise was watching Ginny (Draco was still so relaxed from the blowjob that he could barely keep his eyes open to dress himself.) "Yes?" she finally asked expectantly.

"Just curious what was going through that pretty little head."

"Well, given what I just saw…" – Blaise tensed – "I'd say, mostly, a lot of very new and dirty images." He beamed.

* * *

Because he felt Draco needed to lighten up, Blaise distributed the reporting side of their new spy venture to his lover. Unfortunately Draco had no traction for an argument – Blaise could justify it by pointing out that his Head Boy rank made him far more suited to collecting important tid-bits…

Headmaster Snape idly fielded Blaise's questions about the handling of the first years. Yes, they were chained all together in one room, for four-hour stints each night. No, as Head, he wouldn't have to stand guard over them, just the prefects. Well, no, not Draco, actually, as he was considered to be above such mundane chores.

(Mentally, Snape rolled his eyes: Like he was going to make it that easy for Miss Weasley. She was a daughter of Order members – as such, if Snape could deter her, he would. Even if it meant Blaise Zabini driving him up a wall.)

"Yes, there's a key – but it's charmed not to go our of the possession of the guard on duty. So _good_ of you, though, to take an interest in the reeducation of the children." He sneered at Zabini, but the damned boy refused to take the hint and continued his interrogation.

When he managed to escape, Snape headed rapidly to his quarters – grimacing sourly at the lingering stains of Longbottom's vandalism in the hallway – to try and read potions periodicals. With any luck, that would keep him from worrying about whether Draco was involved to any degree with whatever Blaise was up to. Surely, whatever the state of Draco's questionable loyalties, whatever silly hormonal influence Blaise, or Weasley, had on him, his godson wouldn't be involved – it was probably just Blaise who had been sucked into Weasley's plot – that would be like him.

* * *

"I have information for you, Fairest," Draco said in a surprisingly pleased tone.

Ginny looked around the library – it was right before dinner, they were in no danger of being overheard. "Let's have it, then," she said, brimming with impatience – the first of the first-years punished by time in chains had returned to Gryffindor that morning, and she'd nearly cried.

"Oh, Fairest, do you really think it's that easy?" Draco crooned.

"Er… yes?" she replied hopefully.

"No, no. Come on, pack up – I couldn't possibly tell you anything out in the open like this," he drawled, and started striding away down an aisle.

"There's _no one here_," she hissed at his back, but scrambled to grab her things and chase him down.

She caught up with him in an alcove – or more accurately, he was waiting for her there. Seeing his predatory expression, she muttered, "I'm not getting my information without a fight, am I?"

He smirked. "As far as fights go, I'm sure you'll agree it's pretty non-violent. Undo your blouse for me?" he asked pleasantly.

Well. That _was_ pretty non-violent. In fact, she was fairly flattered… not to mention interested. Her pulse raced, memories of that first time with Blaise in the library, and the more recent times with both boys working incredible waves of pleasure through her body warming her.

But when she complied, Draco hung back, arms crossed, just eyeing her. Ginny pouted, beginning to think Draco was a bit of a dumbarse – he didn't seem to get the concept of her 'paying him off.' Then he ordered, "Play with them."

She looked down, as if to ask, "_That_ them?" and then looked back up at Draco, mouth agape. He smirked. "Yes, I'm really asking that." And when she didn't make a move, he pulled back his robe a bit so she could see a file tucked under his arm. Skin crawling with the awkwardness, she pushed aside her bra and did as he directed. But shortly, he was egging her on: "Now slide one hand down your panties."

She halted, drawing her blouse tight, and glared at him. "Look, you promised you'd help me – no mention of awkward voyeuristic favors. Are you going to relay me the information, or not?"

He looked mildly penitent – but mostly very obviously and uncomfortably hard. "Alright, I'm sorry… I'll tell you." But first he cast a string of charms and wards. He really was genuinely nervous about being caught – though in truth, neither the Vision-Blurring Curse, nor Floor Cushioning Charms were really necessary for protection from eavesdroppers...

"C'mere, then," he said softly, sinking to the floor in an exhausted heap. When she went to seat herself next to him, he pulled her over onto his lap, so his arms wrapped around her right below her still half-bared breasts.

Seriously, in a businesslike tone, he laid out the bits of information Blaise had pieced together. But the whole time, his fingers were running over the buds of her nipples, leaving Ginny lying limp on his lap, eyes constantly fluttering closed. When he ran down towards the end of his briefing, and fell silent, he had to find something else to do with his lips, so he leaned over to shower Ginny with kisses. As they grew deeper and more lingering, Draco nibbled on her neck, his hands roaming forcefully, possessively across her, she opened an eye to peer up at him. "Does that really interest you?" she asked out of the blue. "What you asked me for, before?"

"Yes," he assured her immediately. At the thoughtful expression that then crossed her face, his hopes leapt, and he hastened to convince her – "If you do it, I'll throw a sweetener – I'll teach you a spell that'll help you out with your rescue mission."

She adopted a mock-frown. The bint was learning too many tricks from his lousy boyfriend. "Well, how do I know it'll be anything really novel, that I couldn't just look it up for myself?" she teased.

"I invented it. And given that it's a spell affecting the strength of chains, I think you should find it useful," he said shortly.

To his relief, she didn't question him about the hows or whys of his invention, just gave him a long look, then said softly, "Alright, deal." At which she cast a warming spell to fight the drafts of the big old library, then shed her skirt.

"The knickers too?" he pled, and so reluctantly they joined the skirt in a heap next to Draco, and tentatively, to his great enjoyment, she lay tamely in his lap, and pleasured herself till the bell rang for dinner. At that, she scrambled for her clothes.

"Somewhere to be?" he asked, crestfallen.

She gave him a wry grin. "Got to find Neville and tell him everything, don't I?" she sighed, wriggling the sheaves of documents out of his grasp.

"Some of us think about things other than waging war all the time," he told her. "You should try it."

"And some of us think about things other than sex all the time," she addressed herself to his hard-on.

"Ah, but that means that instead of rushing off to watch Neville further derail his life over his lost love, I get to go back and beg Blaise to ravish me." Two spots of color appeared on Ginny's cheeks. "Oh, I'm sorry, did that appeal to you? Make you, say, think about sex?" She spluttered at him – he laughed gleefully. "Oops, sorry, no, you can't come watch. I'd hate myself if I knew I was taking you away from your war just to watch two boys diddling each other…"

Ginny felt her head swimming with incredibly tantalizing visions… "You. You, and Blaise – we need to schedule some, er, raincheck. Please?" She bit her lip. "Um. If you'd have me around… when you're making love…"

Draco felt odd, hearing her call it that – with his filthy-mouthed lover it was always 'fucking,' even if he knew that Blaise meant something nicer. But arrogance first, always. "I suppose we could pencil you in." Ginny just rolled her eyes and punched his arm. "Ow! Jerk. And yeah, fine. You're invited." Finally, he broke down and admitted the truth – "That's been Blaise's goal, to slowly try out different things around you, and make sure you, er, weren't disgusted by two blokes and all."

Her eyes narrowed. "Ah… so he's to blame for all the fascinating new things that've done _nothing_ to help me in terms of fighting my constant lust for you two."

Her face was furious, but he knew she was jesting, so he couldn't help, right before running off to intercept Blaise and lock himself up in the dungeons with his lover, leaning in and whispering hotly in her ear, "And when you see my cock glistening, just before I plunge it hard into Blaise… then you'll _really_ be wet and wild."

He thought he could still hear her shriek of frustration echoing even as he pelted out of the library and down the hall.

* * *

_A.N. - Sorry for the wait! Real life has a way of complicating things - not in a bad way, but just in a distracting way so that I don't have time to work on the story. I hope the loads of 'juicy' bits make it up to you lot... ;)_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

_From the first-years guard's roster for the week of 2-7-98:_

_V. Crabbe, Sundays and Wednesdays__  
G. Goyle, Mondays and Fridays__  
T. Nott, Tuesdays and Thursdays  
L. Danver, Saturdays_

_From Ginny's instructions to Blaise and Draco:_

_Let your fellow Slytherin prefects know that you scored with Weasley  
Find out which of them think I'm not entirely revolting.  
Let me know the patrol schedules for regular prefect rounds._

* * *

"So… Dray and I are on duty Tuesday and Friday," Blaise said in a subdued tone, sitting obediently where Ginny indicated on the sofa in her workroom.

Ginny felt a pang – an even mildly subdued Blaise was about as depressing as a sullen, angry Draco. Neither boy was enthusiastic about her plan. She had to ignore that, though. "And you gloated about having enjoyed a Weasley sandwich?" she pressed relentlessly.

He shuddered. "_I_ didn't. Dray did. Just put on his Death Eater façade – easier for him to talk about going through girls like they were tissues, that way."

"Oh. Convenient!" Gin chirped, pleased.

Blaise shot her a dirty look. "Glad _you_ think so. You didn't have to deal with the baggage from it, afterward. The anxiety, the guilt, the bad dreams…"

Ginny bit her lip and wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm going to make it up to you," she said in a small voice.

He ruffled her hair. "I know, FOTA. Let's just get it over with?"

She ruffled through the papers and schedules Draco had given her. "Right. So Tuesday or Friday – either Nott or Goyle, then?"

Blaise shuddered again. "Theo. Greg wasn't around when Dray was bragging."

"But he'd probably be susceptible anyway…"

"Exactly," Blaise interrupted, "and that's why Draco specifically waited till we had a chance to say our lines without him hearing. The last thing we need is _him_ taking an interest – you'd never get him to leave you alone, and frankly, at that point, even Draco and I together wouldn't be enough to protect your virtue." He noticed how she shrank against the sofa pillow slightly, and he added quickly, in a jocular tone, "And we have our own intentions regarding your virtue, so he can't have it."

Ginny swatted him. "Theo Nott, then?"

"I guess. Since you're determined," Blaise sulked.

"How did he take the bragging?" Ginny pushed, and got a shrug.

"About the same way he takes everything – totally unreadable."

"Alright," Gin said placidly, and gathering up her things, kissed Blaise a thank-you and went back to Gryffindor to change. The seventh years had Potions right after the sixth years, and Slughorn often let class run late…

* * *

When Ginny finally emerged from the oh-so-hot dungeon, she shucked her robe immediately with a sigh of relief – leaving her camisole-clad breasts exposed, on display. As she edged through the corridor, past the crowd of seventh years waiting to enter for their lesson, Draco tripped her, making her stumble and drop her bookbag. With a great, heaving sigh, she bent over and began collecting her scattered things. One of her bottles of ink had _somehow_ rolled under someone's feet – lunging after it on hands and knees, she collided with the attached pair of legs. "Oh! Sorry!" She stood quickly, flustered.

Cold eyes met her apologetic face: "Easy there, Weasley," Nott chided her, and stepped directly behind the errant bottle. So to fetch it, she had to bend down with her face at the level of his hips.

She swallowed, bent, forced herself to straighten slowly, rather than bolt away, and chirruped "Thanks!" to Nott before skittering down the hall away from the Slytherins, all snickering at her.

* * *

"Well?" she asked Draco. She'd met him in her workroom in order to 'plan,' which somehow entailed taking off each others' shirts and snogging.

"Hmmm," was his reply, and his mouth seized her nipple.

"Has he said anything?"

Draco mumbled something unintelligible from around her breast. Ginny jerked away, out of reach. "Don't talk with your mouth full," she scolded him. "Now, what's Theo said?"

He pouted, before sitting up ram-rod straight. "I talked with Nott last night. Mostly just about getting tail in general." His tone, in spite of his painfully correct posture, was drawling, languid. Ginny realized she was seeing the Dark Slytherin façade, and shivered. "But the subject of which bints were easiest arose – I gave him a smug-bastard grin and recommended Gryffs, because our Lord had them running scared. To which he laughed, said 'so he'd heard – the Weasley bitch was good then?' and I gave him a coy smile before bursting out laughing and telling him 'fuck yes.'"

As Draco slumped back against the sofa, a stony look in his eyes, Ginny realized that was the first time she'd heard him curse, ever. "It'll be over and done with soon," she mumbled into his chest, curling up close.

"This little episode, yeah," he agreed bitterly. "But there's still a war on." Still, he put his arms around her as gently as ever.

They were still curled up in the same position, asleep, an hour later when Blaise tracked them down to 'drag the plotters to dinner.'

* * *

It was Neville who found the spell, and where and how, she didn't dare ask – at any rate, he hadn't given if over to her without a fight. He'd described it, in vague terms; she'd asked for it, and he'd flipped. "It's _dark,_ Ginny!" he'd repeated endlessly, in a shocked and horrified tone.

"So is chaining up first years for four-hour torture sessions every night to try and brainwash them in becoming baby Death Eaters," she'd said tonelessly. And because she'd been up late each night healing cuts and bruises after those torture sessions, and because she had last night received post from her dad that his second cousin had vanished, she added nastily, "Besides, it takes heavy duty spells to do the real work, rescuing people. It's not easy-peasy stuff like, you know, vandalism or practical jokes."

Neville looked stricken at her disdain, and hadn't spoken to her the rest of the night. That was Monday – on Tuesday morning, he waited for her in the common room, the slip of tattered paper with instructions and incantations lying beside him for her to take. She grabbed it, skimmed it quickly: "The S.W.A.K. Curse," it declared itself in spindly, splotched ink, and on skimming it, she realized it was both within her range of casting-ability and even more perfect than she'd thought for her purposes, so she pocketed it. She gave Neville a wordless but enthusiastic hug, getting a small, sad smile in return, and they walked down to breakfast together in silence.

After breakfast, she went up to Madame Pomfrey's and played sick – her acting was quite feeble, but Pomfrey read the need in her eyes and, knowing how Ginny had been bringing up first year after first year all weekend, felt enough sympathy to excuse her from classes. All that remained before the evening was to master the S.W.A.K. Curse.

* * *

"Sealed With A Kiss?" Blaise repeated. "Never heard of it, but if it does what it says…" He put the fragile piece of paper down gingerly, still regarding it with an impressed expression.

"Forget whether it _works_ right. I'm concerned about whether it's really safe for Ginny to use," Draco broke in.

"It's not _that_ powerful a curse. If I can cast a Patronus without exhausting myself, I can handle this one," Ginny said, irritated.

"Not what I meant. I was implying that if you're really going to do this to Theo, are you a hundred percent sure he won't be able to do anything to you while he's under the spell?" Draco asked bitingly.

Blanching, Ginny re-read the spell – it said nothing to address that, and given the context…

So Draco insisted he try it, first. Of course, it helped he was adept at dark curses.

"Ready?" he asked Ginny. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind – she wanted to understand as clearly as possible what it was like to be under the spell for when she used it on Theo. At her nod, Draco recited the preliminary incantation, then specified ten minutes as the duration, before uttering the main curse, drawing up mental concentration, and leaning in to kiss her deeply.

His hands ran over her body, peeling away trousers, boxers. One hand gently tucked strands of her short blonde hair from her eyes, before roughly tackling her, flipping her over onto her belly. Blaise's hands rubbed her flat nipples briskly. He murmured, "Love you, Draco," and without further ado, thrust inside of her, her prostate gland making sparklers appear before her tightly squeezed-shut eyes, and her cock gave a mighty twitch…

Ginny came to, face down on the couch, fully clothed. "Holy _fuck_, that was weird," she told Draco fervently. "You're supposed to make them think they're fooling around _with_ you, not _as_ you."

Draco shrugged, pleased. "I wanted to see if I could do it."

Blaise's eyes were bugging out, his whole body rigid with interest. Come to think of it, so was Ginny's, but she rolled her eyes at Blaise's antics anyway, and continued, "Well, can we carry on now? _I_ still need to master the spell."

"Me, me, pick me!" Blaise sang out.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Go ahead. It's safe as long as you don't cast it too often."

So she practiced on Blaise, kissing him deeply, telling him what he was 'seeing' – "Draco and I, rubbing you good and long," – and sitting back until Blaise stopped moaning and thrashing, and lay still, waiting for the ending incantation. "Say this one, and not this one," Draco instructed, his finger resting on each line briefly. "The first means they'll remember between, uh, episodes. The second, you'll want to use on Theo only at the very end of the year, I guess – it makes the visions seem like dreams. Which is pretty accurate, really."

Ginny woke Blaise up, and turned to Draco, drilling in the spell again and again, switching back and forth between the boys. Granted, it wasn't all difficult, challenging spell-casting – she also switched back and forth between cursing them, and snogging them, and it made the day pass that much more pleasantly.

* * *

When she knocked on the dungeon door, she was wearing the blouse from the other day, and an even shorter skirt than before. "Ginevra Weasley," Theo breathed, seeing the pleasant surprise on the doorstep when he answered. "Can I help you?" His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, his eyes boring into hers suspiciously.

Rather than break free, she melted against him. "Blaise ditched me. The only good thing was, I found out where to find _you_ from him, first."

"How touching," he murmured in a low, unreadable tone, and tugged her inside.

She knew he was watching her face – a DA ringleader, just happening to contrive to visit the dungeons where Death Eaters were keeping children? She gave the room a cursory once-over, managing, she hoped, to look bored, then ignored the background resolutely.

Staring into his dark brown eyes, she asked, "Is there someplace more… private?" and she stepped forward, twining her arms around his hips.

Theo loped an arm around her, and wordlessly guided her to a supply closet.

It was dark – he hadn't turned on the light. Her heart pounding, she mouthed the words of the spell silently, running one hand through Theo's thick hair, down his back to his bum, carefully keeping the other hand, clutching her wand, far enough off to the side that he wouldn't bump into it. His hands started roving, in turn – the instant she completed the incantation, she leapt wildly at him and stuck her tongue down his throat, at which, thankfully, he stopped groping her and became just a dead weight on her shoulder.

She let him fall to the floor, none too carefully – if he had bruises, she hoped he'd just chalk it up to a very exuberant time with her. Which brought her to the second hardest part, after kissing the bastard. Setting the spell to four hours, she started reciting what Draco had suggested would fill up a full four hours, and left him (after a silencing spell) to moan and pant in the closet while she took his key and set to work on the chains.

Freeing the first years, she cast a low quality Notice-Me-Not on each, and told them to get the hell out of the dungeons – seeing a pair of Slytherin first years, she hastily amended that to just "Get to your dormitories and stay there!"

It was the work of the rest of her allotted four hours to use the spell she'd bartered off Draco, re-locking the chains, spelling them one by one, then making sure they were still able to unlock and re-lock without problems. It worked – it was only to the person bound by them that the difference was apparent, which of course meant she had to test it personally, locking herself in the wrist shackles and popping her wrists through with a flick. Perfect. And then it was time to wake Theo.

Gritting her teeth, she whispered into his ear, "You've been satisfied three times over. We've both robed. You've released the first years from their re-education for the night. Then you dismissed me, with your thanks for satisfying you."

She backed out of the supply closet, dragging Theo's unresponsive form after her to the center of the room. Dumping him in the middle of the floor, she cast the end of the curse from the doorway, and bolted back to Gryffindor.

* * *

She was idly reading a trashy romance novel – not Hieberus, just something to scan her eyes over. She kept skipping all the 'good bits,' doing her best not to think about the stupidity of reading something entitled _"The Jewel of the Sultan's Harem"_ just for the plot.

"Hey Gin?!" she heard, faintly echoing up the stairs.

"Nev?" Reluctantly she dragged herself out of bed and to the top of the stairs of the girls' dorm. She hoped he wasn't still upset at the abrupt way she'd blown past him when she'd returned to Gryffindor.

Apparently not: "There's two of your girlfriends here to see you, shall I send them up?"

Ginny grimaced, scrubbing at her face with the heel of her palm tiredly. "Yeah, sure!" she told him, injecting more perkiness into her tone than she felt.

Nearly immediately, she was bowled over by two flying black-and-blue figures.

"Dray! Blaise…" she gasped slightly, when they'd solicitously straightened her up. "You ballsy bastards, telling Neville you were girlfriends come to visit me…"

"Ha!" Blaise disagreed derisively. "Who do you think came to get us and let us know you were back?"

"We were worried," Draco growled, solemnly.

"Why? What for? I'm fine." Ginny was very carefully holding herself together, now…

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. That's why Neville tracked us down on our rounds to tell us you'd rushed past him, grey as a corpse."

"I wasn't-" she protested.

He continued talking right over her protests. "-And we'd just swung by the dungeon so Draco could pull his macho Death Eater shite, which, I'm sure you'll be _pleased_ to hear, went swimmingly, and Theo is rather cocky about having a sweet piece of Gryffindor on the side."

Ginny swallowed, aware of Draco's piercing grey eyes not leaving her face for an instant.

"And Neville said the first years had been bouncing around him like puppies, singing your praises, with that precocious one you're so fond of murmuring about 'Poor brave Ginny…'" When Blaise mentioned Ariadne, she winced.

"You do look rough, Ginny," Draco told her. When she started to growl another protest, he added in a brisk tone – "Spell exhaustion, no doubt." He put a hand to her collar, starting to undue her blouse buttons. When she made a faint noise of protest, he murmured, "None of that. We're keeping you in a bed, and ours is ruled out unless you want to hazard running –" he bit his lip, cutting himself off, but not in time to keep Gin's skin from crawling at the thought of encountering Theo in the Slytherin dorms. "Here, come on," Draco said, claiming one of her pillows to put behind his head, and gesturing for her to snuggle close.

Blaise, meanwhile, was spelling the curtains with a layer of charms so thick that Ginny was certain he'd leave some visible trace, some glimmer of magic. But when he hopped onto the bed, joining them, and pulled the curtains round, there was no sign of the spells that made the bed an oasis of silence, none of the faint noises of Gryffindor's common room intruding. When he curled up on the other side of Draco, she finally realized what other spell he'd cast – "You magically extended my bed!"

"Of course," he laughed, "D'you think Dray and I manage to confine ourselves to a typical single bed?" He took her rapt, distant expression for interest in the prospect of he and Draco's activities in bed – in reality, Ginny was rebuking herself for never thinking of doing that to her bed before, even despite how she tossed and turned in her sleep.

But when the boys' nimble fingers divested her of her track pants and oversize t-shirt, and they were all under her covers, warm and excited and skin rubbing deliciously, she became just as interested in Blaise and Draco as Blaise had assumed she was.

The boys had dropped their usual, intently serious attitudes towards pleasuring her – especially Blaise, of course. When she commented on how playful they were being, Blaise bared his teeth, and lunged. "My boob! He bit my boob!" Ginny yelped shrilly, totally astonished.

"Bite her, will you?" Draco growled sharply in a fit of mock-chivalry, and it was his turn to lunge, clamping his mouth around Blaise... judging by Blaise's rapturous expression, though, no teeth were involved. He released his boyfriend, though, when Ginny sighed. "Someone likes what she sees," he teased. Remembering what he'd said to her last week when he'd gone off to get laid, Ginny tensed.

Draco read the wild look in her eyes easily – sure, she was nervous, but judging by her quick, shallow breaths, Ginny's mind was on one thing and one thing only. He tugged her close, so he could stroke her even when laying facedown on her bed. Then he tugged his boyfriend over to crouch above him. Ginny was trembling even before he smoothly slipped a finger in her. When Blaise prepared himself, and slipped into Draco, her eyes went as wide as saucers, and she started writhing under his touch – till Blaise, settling himself deep enough in Draco, paused, propping himself up, and massaged her breast with one hand and captured her lips with his.

The searing heat of his boyfriend above, and inside him, and Ginny flush against his side, plus tightly clenching his finger as she muttered incoherently, swept Draco away. Who came when, thanks to whom, he couldn't have said, but when he woke up with the sunrise the next morning, finding his arm loping over Ginny's shoulder to curl round Blaise's, and Blaise and Ginny's entwined hands resting on his hip, the redhead curled between he and Blaise's bare chests, he felt as though he were still riding the warm afterglow of the night before.

* * *

_A.N. - I hope this nice long update makes up for the lack of them earlier... __I want to thank everyone for their patience! You guys are the best, really. Thanks for holding on - the last couple months have been incredibly challenging for me, with several people around me having issues, on top of innumerable other difficulties... Now that they're over, I hope I'll never keep you waiting that long again._


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**_  
(N.B. - Very non-linear chapter, bear with me!)_

_From Severus Snape's morning announcements:_

_1) There is to be no cursing Inquisitorial Squad members. Our well-wishes go out to Mr. Goyle; we're confident the curse-breakers will set him to rights shortly.  
2) OWLS, NEWTS, and the new CATS for first through third, and sixth years, will be administered in only a few short months, and I urge those of you who had fallaciously assumed you would not sit a wizarding exam this year to remember this. Along with your Hogwarts _conduct file_, these are the main hiring indicators in our new regime and for those of you who are _sorely_ lacking in the former area, I urge you to think of your future.  
3) To all dunderheads who are evidently unaware: skipping classes is a suspendable offense in this institution. Moreover, anyone skipping Dark Arts class, today of all days, _will_ face a Ministry inquiry board to explain why they are not putting the proper emphasis on their studies. Again, for those whose skulls need this pounded in: you will face government action if you skive today. On your own head be it if you choose not to heed this warning._

_From the thoughts and murmurs of countless students:_

_Dear Merlin. Godric, Helga, Salazar, Rowena - Dumbledore - if you can hear us... spare us?_

* * *

A new day, a new unit in Dark Arts class. The homework they'd been set had been responsible for a run on Dreamless Sleep potion just on its own. Tattered bits of paper scraps from the readings they were assigned littered the halls thanks to those who, in a fit of fright, or fury, had shredded the words into pieces.

Across the castle, most students were tense, bracing themselves – though Parvati Patil, who'd received a detention earlier in the week for defending 'Undesirable Number One,' was marching boldly around the corridors as though she hadn't a care in the world, while Padma darted about at her heels pleading for her to just _try_ to recant, it couldn't hurt, hell, Harry wasn't a great dancer anyways, couldn't she just rag on him in front of Carrow for half a moment?

Ernie Macmillan, on the other hand, was grey, and had thrown up twice before breakfast in dread of the seventh years' class.

His nerves weren't improved by Goyle, Crabbe, and other Inquisitorial Squad members, whose faces were the sole spots of glee in an otherwise somber student body.

Blaise and Draco, deep under the covers back in their dorm, skipped breakfast and talked quietly, pledging to support each other.

Ginny worried fleetingly about Draco, given his reaction to the news about Carrow's lesson plan, and Blaise, whose maddening unpredictability wasn't really what she'd call a healthy attitude, given the circumstances. But when Neville squired her to breakfast, their arms linked, and their philosophies about the administration in accordance for the first time in ages, she felt a swell of true Gryffindorish solidarity – no, more than that, _pride_, for the first time that semester.

Compared to the grim solidarity of shared suffering as the victims of the Death Eaters' regime, or the exhilarating but shallow Gryffindor team pride she felt at the match against Slytherin, the sense of House pride between the Gryffindor DA members was beautiful, more rich and real. It made walking to Carrow's class, with a pale-faced Eloise Midgen, a much easier task.

* * *

The first and most obvious thing they all observed on walking in was that the desks had been vanished, as when they'd been made to hex each other with Thermal Blistering spells.

The second thing was the trio of third years huddled together in the middle of the room. Ginny's heart contracted for the sake of half the class – it was mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs for the 9am class, and while she and her Housemates were outraged, the Hufflepuffs were just sick at heart, looking at their younger Housemates.

_Not for long, though._

* * *

Neville's mind contained much the same thought in the first batch of seventh-years to attend Cruciatus classes, the hour after Ginny's, when he spotted some of the same first years Ginny had spared – was continuing to spare every chance she got – and they gave him pitiful, miserable looks from where they shivered in a heap. It made something proud, and righteous, burn deep within him, knowing he was going to answer that look. To act, to spare someone else, to take their pain on himself. It was the sort of thing Harry would do, if he were here.

Across the room, Carrow watched him like a hawk.

* * *

At the eleven o'clock lesson, the students were half-sick with dread, and half-sick with hope, having heard about the previous two incredibly eventful lessons. Draco and Blaise lounged insolently against a wall. Shame there weren't any desks, Blaise mused - much more conducive to the proper angle of insolence in their leaning. Of course, when the lesson started in a moment, when Carrow finished up checking the roll, he'd realize the two very different intents between Blaise's careless attitude, and Draco's. Feeling another pang for his boyfriend, he looked over again (first shaking his hair into his face, so Draco wouldn't catch him staring.) Frost had crept up into Draco's eyes – his stance was that painfully correct posture that made Blaise's neck and shoulders ache in sympathy. He was staring at the knot of defiant seventh years in the middle of the room.

Blaise, personally, had planned to make a point of not looking at them – till he caught a glimpse of a pink hair bow… His face broke out into a goofy smirk, and he changed tactics in a heartbeat, giving Draco's hand a fast, hard squeeze before leaving him against the wall, and sidling over to position himself directly across from Parvati Patil.

* * *

"Miss… Weasley."

Ginny had known in her gut that she would be called upon first. "Sir." She was proud – her tone was cool, nonchalant.

"We'll start the demonstration with you. Come over here." She traipsed over to stand beside the professor, almost as if she were actually an obedient student.

"Hold your wand like this… Now watch this bit closely, class, it's key…" Face blank, Ginny aped each movement. Carrow's face registered ill-concealed surprise.

"Now. Let's grab Miss Jameston, shall we?" Carrow tugged one Hufflepuff away from the rest, saw Ginny just standing, watching, and blinked in surprise. The Hufflepuff sixth years in her class were starting to look disconcerted, as well.

"Well now – take up the stance I showed you, Weasley, and let's see what you can do."

At that, Ginny flashed a sunny smile around the classroom, adopted the proper foot position, and braced her elbow and wrist as she'd been instructed. Then she conjured up every memory she could think of concerning Jameston, and every little Hufflepuff – even the second year ones she'd feuded with at the beginning of the year. She dredged up fondness for their laughable attempts at making fun of her – poor dear things, they just didn't have the benefit of Fred and George's example, was all – and the ones in front of her, the sillies, probably in trouble for being too loud in the hallway or not turning in homework or calling McGonagall 'old cat.' Adoration for the sweet, noble little Hufflepuffs swelled up in Ginny's heart, and when her saccharine feelings were practically about to give her a toothache, she cast "Crucio" at Jameston.

Nothing happened, except that Jameston shivered, then blinked, wide-eyed. Ginny, sweetness and light, turned to Carrow, shrugging. "I just can't seem to manage it, Professor," she said, and thinking of Hermione, made her lip tremble a bit.

"Take a seat against the wall, Weasley, and think about what a zero in Dark Arts will mean on your resume when you go applying for jobs. Maybe _then_ you'll find it in you to punish Miss Jameston as she deserves… Meanwhile, let's get everyone else in groups of fours, and start practicing, shall we?" It was clear that in his anticipatory glee, Carrow was already forgetting her.

That was fine with Ginny. It meant that when Angus McLaggen stepped up to the front of his knot of Hufflepuff friends, and prepared to cast the spell, she had a perfectly clear field of vision – and a perfectly clear field to cast. She cast her _Stupefy_ non-verbally, her wand hand seeming to lay lax on the floor. To all appearances, she didn't move – but McLaggen fell over. Naturally, this sparked an outcry – Carrow rushed over, muttering deprecations about the boy psyching himself out, or just not being able to handle the powerful curse.

At McLaggen's collapse, a trio of Gryffindor boys grew solemn and pale-faced, faces taut with strain as they sensed how bad things would be for the class if no one cast the curse. Ginny watched their attitude change, and felt awful, but had no regrets when she Stunned the first of them to step up.

The other two looked like they might faint of their own accord, for a moment – but Carrow was finishing shifting Angus over to the side to wake up on his own, and was about to turn around. The one boy, Dan, shoved his unconscious friend into a corner amongst the bookbags and stepped up, so he would be seen as obedient when Carrow turned around. As he leveled his wand at the crying Hufflepuff third year boy, Ginny sent him tumbling down, at which the third boy in the group snapped – the collapse of both of his friends drew a terrified shriek from his throat, which naturally also drew Carrow's attention.

"What in the Dark Lord's name!..." the professor blustered at the sight of two more unconscious students.

Meanwhile, Rose, from Ginny's dorm, had figured it out. With desperate, panicked gestures, she pointed to herself and her rather bewildered friend, frantically telegraphing a message: "Us too!"

Ginny snapped off two more Stunning spells, sought out Eloise and Stunned her as she'd promised before class, then crammed her wand back into her book bag so it wouldn't tempt Carrow to snap it, and sat waiting for him to descend on her.

* * *

"Longbottom. Have at it," Carrow rapped out, looming threateningly over him.

Neville strode to the middle of the room, and put away his wand, tucking it in a robe pocket.

He had read the reading on "The Most Sacred Pain" – had, in fact, studied the essay intently, the better to construct a point-by-point rebuttal. He'd practiced his reasoned, logical deconstruction of the author's arguments in favor of 'the Darkest Unforgivable' until three in the morning.

Maybe it was the fuzzy state of his mind from that lack of sleep, or the mixed bag of expressions on the people studying him now, or what he'd heard of Ginny's exploits already that morning. He abandoned the tidy arguments he'd formulated and spoke instead from the aching pain in the gut he'd felt since Carrow had gleefully, malevolently announced their new unit while winking broadly across the room at Neville.

Neville squared his shoulders, braced his feet, took a deep breath, and gave one of the bravest speeches of his life: "The Cruciatus Curse is one of the cruelest known to wizard-kind. When my parents were t-tortured by it, it drove them completely... irrevocably - _insane_."

Carrow, standing on the sidelines, chuckled as though enjoying a favorite bedtime story. The rest of the class went ashen.

"No matter what we might have between us –" unintentionally, his eyes flicked to Marcus Belby, who'd used to tease Luna mercilessly, "there's not a one of you that I would ever dream of causing even as hundredth as much pain as Cruciatus. And if our professor insists that you all try and curse me, even if you can't resist the fear, I can resist the pain – I have before." He looked round the room. "Come on," he urged gently. "If you want to save yourself – I'm here. Go ahead." He straightened, took a deep breath, relaxed, arms dangling loosely at his sides.

His face had never been so frog-like and ugly – Carrow snarled: "Well someone _put that to the test_, already – YOU!" His finger stabbed at Hannah Abbot.

Mute, she shook her head.

"Blasted little tart. The rest of you! Now! Even unpracticed, you can take him down," he goaded them in the tempting, vile tone he used when waxing enthusiastic about the pleasures of the Dark Arts.

Everyone just stared at him. Not a hand moved to a wand. Not even Theo Nott, their resident Inquisitorial Squad classmate. _That_ had Neville shocked out of his skull, till he realized Padma – Padma? She had been terrified, last he saw, and wanting to cooperate – had her wand jabbed against Theo's side, right under his ribs.

Beaming till his face wanted to split, Neville said, "Sorry, Professor."

"All of you. Right now. I _will _fail _every, single, last one _of you lot. Don't think I won't. You'll be blacklisted - never to get a job - always scorned by our new society!..." Flecks of spittle rained down on Neville. He didn't blink, didn't bother to try and hide his pride in his classmates. "Parkinson!"

The girl wrinkled her up-turned nose. "I _daren't_, Professor," she whinged. "Look at all these fanatics - I'll be cursed every time I turn my back in the halls if I do it."

As if on cue, Seamus Finnegan bared his teeth fiercely at her.

Even the Slytherins proving useless, their professor snapped: "_OUT!_ GET OUT, SO I CAN TAKE THIS OUTRAGE _DIRECTLY_ TO SNAPE... _get out of here, immediately!_" Amycus roared, incensed.

Neville made a smart turn on his heel and seemed to float right out the door, his heart was so light. The rest of the class, worshipfully in the case of Ernie and other DA members, profoundly relieved in the case of many, profoundly disturbed in the case of Belby and a few others, trailed along in his wake.

"Gaah - AAAUGH!" The last of the girl's breathy sobs died away and Anthony Goldstein slumped, shoulders shaking, and gave up his spot on the floor. The Gryffindor fifth-year was hoisted by one of the younger Inquisitorial Squad members towards the hospital – the first had been delivered there five minutes previous.

"Right. Someone new to try their hand at it… Zabini." And because he was already standing in front of her, Carrow indicated he should tug the girl at his feet over to practice the curse on.

Chivalrously Blaise helped Parvati to her feet and drew her to the center of the room. "Yes, professor? What did you want?"

"For you to curse the little rebel bint, Zabini," Carrow said in a haggard tone. Blaise speculated he had one hell of a headache by the way he gingerly moved his head, and how quietly he spoke. Time to add to it.

He eyed Parvati for half a moment, wand out, consideringly. "I just can't, Professor."

Carrow let out a gusty breath. "And why not?"

"She's just too gorgeous. I couldn't find it in me to cause her any kind of pain…"

"FINE," Carrow snapped, then got a hold of himself (or the headache spiked.) "How about Will over there?"

Blaise looked the fourth-year Slytherin up and down. "A boy with that body? Never could I mar such perfection!" he swooned. He batted languid eyes at Carrow – "I'm afraid I can't manage to curse anyone here… to my randy eyes, they're all much too delectable."

A vein pulsed above Carrow's eyebrow. Blaise steeled himself against flinching.

"Fine. FINE. Just stand there." A tad confused, he obeyed. Carrow hauled Draco into the center of the room. "You. Curse this little slut, will you? Come on – teach him some fidelity, at least."

Draco gave him a cow-eyed stare. "Now, Malfoys aren't sluts, but they also wouldn't dream of cursing a lover they've pledged faith with."

Carrow grimaced for a moment, then growled under his breath, "Well... it shouldn't be hard to break that faith, given your lover's proclivities!" and he drew his wand.

Both boys blinked at him, confused – then Carrow hissed something, and Blaise's eyes fluttered shut. Dreamily slow, he stepped forwards, and pointed his wand at Parvati's temple, while his hand reached out for her robe, to tug it off, to strip her naked.

"Ca-Professor Carrow," Draco said urgently. Blaise froze in place, hand on Parvati's shoulder, as Draco distracted Carrow's concentration. "It would be_ most unwise_ to create a break between he and I right now…" Carrow gave him a baleful look and hastily Draco cast about, dredging up memories of the Dark Lord's speeches. "He – he's needed. I know how badly finances are a concern… what with running a government and all…"

"_Oh?_" Carrow asked, and Blaise's hand fell to his side – a moment later his eyes fluttered open again. "That's quite a target you've set yourself, Malfoy," he said quietly enough that the confused teenager standing by Parvati couldn't overhear. "Madame Arabella would be quite the asset if turned… why don't you take yourselves down for an early lunch? I'll have a house-elf bring you some wine if that would help matters along."

Draco considered, and nodded. "Please. So long as it's a dry white – and over a decade, of course."

Carrow nodded solemnly, so, seizing Blaise's arm, Draco started to stride from the classroom. Blaise resisted, tugging the sleeve of Parvati's robe and turning a pleading look at Draco. _Good thought._ He nodded, looking for all the world like a stern parent relenting and allowing a treat, and beaming, Blaise dragged Parvati from the room along with them, throwing a wink round the classroom and sliding an arm around her waist suggestively. Obedient to Blaise's mad schemes, Draco did the same, and they waltzed down the Defense Corridor that way.

Getting to the end of they hall, they dropped their arms and paid no-nevermind to Parvati, Draco checking his watch and congratulating Blaise – "Well over half the class period devoted to your antics and hysterics. Well _done_, Head Boy. New record."

Parvati gasped lightly, still looking unsure whether they'd really let her go. "Zab- Blaise, D-Draco, I owe you everything –"

"We haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, we're sure," Blaise said in a not-half-bad attempt at mimicking Draco's Evil Slytherin façade. "All we know is, we're getting permission to skive off class. That's the only reason we'd cause any disruption, of course."

"So, if you'll excuse us," Draco murmured, sweeping a noble bow to her.

Eyes glittering and a grin stealing across her face, she nodded coolly. "Of course. Do enjoy the rest of your class hour," she said courteously, respectfully.

"Of course." They raced off down the staircase, Blaise smacking Draco lightly on the ass until he finally elaborated on what Blaise had overheard about "dry white, and over a decade." Then he smacked Draco's ass again, harder, with a dirty whisper about how nice wine tasted when one drank it in bed naked with one's lover.

* * *

Neville was in detention for the rest of eternity… but no one would curse him. Some insinuated that it was beneath them, others claimed to be frightened of him. A few just scornfully regarded Carrow asking, "What's the point?" Indeed, many couldn't see a point in mastering difficult, draining, and slightly terrifying Unforgivables. And many couldn't see a point in not resisting. Of course, they weren't the ones standing with Ginny when she was reamed out by Carrow.

"You won't be allowed to go to Hogsmeade with your class on the fourteenth. Shame, I know – you could have found some lonely wizard to lift your skirts for, and earned a little pocket change. So sorry." Ginny stared at his flabby face and did her best to wish him dead. It did not work…

Continuing threateningly, Carrow elaborated on her punishment. "Theo asked me if he could have the honor of devoting the day to reeducating you… but I suspect he would be soft on tramps like yourself, so I was forced to tell him a sterner caliber of hatred was needed. The Headmaster assured me that this generation's Weasley-Malfoy feud is alive and well, though." His grin was as malicious as a shark's.

Ginny bit her lip, hard, to keep from laughing.

_

* * *

A.N. – Glad to hear that you're all glad to hear that I'm writing again! :D And... yeah, I never get enough of the detention set-up. Granted, with how insanely busy Ginny's life is, I've got to manuever them to have some uninterrupted free time together SOMEHOW. Well... HAPPY HOLIDAYS!  
_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

_From the to-do list of Theo Nott:_

_1. care for Danver's rat for the next month  
__2. give Crabbe all my puddings this week  
3. do all Goyle's Charms homework for the next two weeks_

* * *

Ginny showed up at the next session with Theo filled with trepidation. He'd never acknowledged her in the halls or at meals, but she'd been receiving some strange looks from him…

He dragged her into the closet the second she knocked, making her bless her foresight in preparing the spell beforehand – it needed only the last word to activate. Well, that and a kiss from Theo – who had other things on his mind. He smacked her on the backside, and not lightly. "I hear someone's been causing a ruckus."

She giggled breathily, mostly out of panic.

"No worries, I'll not chuck you just because you're a hothead rebel…" he assured her with a low laugh, pressing against her. "I've arranged with Goyle, Danver, and Crabbe to take over all the re-education shifts, if you can be free this time of night every night?

Suddenly dizzy with astonishment and elation, Ginny nodded fervently, realized he might not see that in the dark, and said aloud, rather over-eagerly, "Oh, yes!"

Theo chuckled again. In a wave of charitable good feeling, Ginny decided his laugh was actually rather rich and pleasant. "So while the first years are all tied up, we'll have to work on a very _personal_ re-education for you."

With more enthusiasm for her task than Ginny had suspected she'd ever be able to muster, she let him press against her even more forcefully, and she assured him, "Most definitely," before kissing him and leaving him to his hallucinations.

* * *

Draco and Blaise did a poor job of concealing their disappointment when they found Ginny in a back corner of the library working on Transfiguration and she jubilantly informed them that she could now meet Theo every day, and keep _any_ first years from being chained and tortured from now on. It didn't even help her case when Ginny perkily pointed out, "The good thing is that, I'm in such truly deep trouble this time, the Carrows have allowed all Inquisitorial Squad members free reign with me – so if you and Blaise seem to be taking a hand in my 're-education' as well, Theo can't complain."

Blaise perked up – "Well that's a plus… and re-education, hmm. Sounds kinky. Heh."

Draco was entirely stony-faced, though, "Oh, just wonderful. Now we need to make sure not only that Theo isn't trying to mess with you for real and not just only in his dreams, under the spell, but that Crabbe and Goyle and _their_ like don't take an interest in you, as well."

The bottom of her stomach dropped out – "Oh." Immediately repentant, Ginny murmured, "I… really don't mean to be such a problem-causer. And – you two shouldn't feel like you have to take responsibility for me…" The truth was, the idea of the two Slytherins so actively protecting her did strange things to her mind.

Blaise just slithered his way around her, managing to wrap every one of his limbs around hers. She leaned back against him, trying to tell him wordlessly how protected it made her feel, knowing how he supported her. And with Blaise tying up her arms, Draco could dart in and grab both her breasts, apparently to teach her a lesson by arousing her. Far be it from Ginny to question the logic!

"Ah-ah, Dray. We both know Miss Weasley has a conspiracy meeting at 5pm, sharp," Blaise chided, untangling himself from Ginny. Ginny and Draco both gave exaggerated groans, exactly like a pair of disappointed first years finding out that they couldn't go to Hogsmeade.

Blaise just chuckled at them, then somehow turned it into another reproachful cluck of his tongue. "And you, Draco – you're supposed to be patrolling with your devastatingly suave lover fifteen minutes after that, remember?"

Draco grimaced at "patrolling" but in the end had to give Blaise a wry grin – "I could hardly forget now, could I?"

Ginny smirked at them both and, wriggling out of Draco's continued grasp on her breasts, began to collect her things, taking care to Petrify the rat she still hadn't turned into a napkin holder. As she was putting away her various papers, books, and notes, Blaise focused on twining himself around Draco.

As she hurried off to meet with Neville, Ernie and Parvati, she could hear them practically cooing at each other. Well – Blaise, anyway, who was more the cooing type. But Draco wasn't unaffected by the raven-haired trickster's charms, Ginny was relieved to hear. The last scrap of their conversation that she caught on her way out the door was, "…You're my anchor, Blaise, you know that? You're just amazing…"

She couldn't explain the fond smile on her face when she arrived to meet the others at the Room of Requirement, so Ginny didn't bother trying.

* * *

To Draco's relief and Blaise's slight disappointment, Theo found himself a date for Hogsmeade, so they could be certain he would be out of the castle all day, and there was no need to concoct some dramatic story about what Draco and Blaise wanted with Ginny for eight-plus hours. He would be contented with Daphne Greengrass all day – what Draco knew Theo would consider the society-approved wife-type. Which, he supposed, meant Ginny was chalked up as the piece-on-the-side type.

For all his foul-mouthed talk all summer about blood traitors, it made Draco's blood boil that Nott would consider such a fantastic-looking, vivacious, Quidditch-talented girl only good for nailing out of public view.

Then again, Blaise reminded him on the single occasion he shared his annoyance in rant form, it was a bloody good thing that they had the amazing fortune to have Miss Weasley all to themselves, in the general sense that no competitors were going to challenge them, and in the specific sense that he and Blaise would be left all alone with the girl all day.

They pounced at breakfast.

"So the Carrows had some very creative ideas for how we could punish you, us just being left to our own devices all day," Draco said, managing to suavely smirk while simultaneously shoving the scrambled eggs out of the way before Blaise put an elbow in them.

Blaise, oblivious to that by-play, broke in – "Convenient, isn't it, how people rush to put the two Slytherins most besotted with Miss Ginevra Weasley in charge of the 'recidivist blood traitor'?" he commented merrily.

"_Hush._ As I was saying… they had lots of ideas." For effect, he threw in a cold Death-Eater-esque smirk of amusement. "I selected just one of theirs, since I feel that my own outstrip their creative powers by a great deal." That was when he started frog-marching Ginny towards the Dungeons.

Draco could feel her wriggle under his hands as he shoved her down the corridor. She was at least a bit anxious then – he'd expected that – but she was completely quiet, no arguments, and _that_ he hadn't been confident of. She was too argumentative, he'd thought, and he had already unconsciously been scrambling for ways to keep her coming along quietly with them.

But even when Blaise, trotting alongside them, recited the Slytherin password in a ghoulish tone – "Torture the traitors" – she only gave him a sidelong look of amusement. It was… it was hot, Draco decided, selecting the least problematic adjective that came to mind. Hot, at least, encompassed the glow centered in his chest, that after dealing with Theo, after that horrific day which had landed Ginny with her in-school suspension in the first place, she would still trust him.

When they steered her into their bedroom, locked the door, and produced a blindfold, she gave a skeptical snort. "You do know what day it is, right? February 14th, not October 31st. You're not going to scare me." Her chin was tilted defiantly.

Her snark wasn't enough to provoke an answer from Draco, but the fact that she was possibly stalling now that she was faced with a blindfold was enough to cause him to search her face, looking for permission in her eyes.

He took her glance up and down his body as a 'yes' and as soon as the blindfold was secure, they stripped her at top speed, standing at either side of her so that their bodies pressed only against her thighs and hips. She writhed a bit. They each suckled her neck, her collarbone, down to her nipples, prickled into points by the slight Dungeon chill. She sighed blissfully after a moment, which Draco took as a cue.

He left her to Blaise – who happily monopolized her – as he went hunting in his drawer. Had he hidden it in with his pajamas, or sock… oh, no, of course – under his boxers. Smirking triumphantly, he returned, prize in hand. He'd bought this one at Zonkos, but if memory served, WWW sold these as well, so even blindfolded she should recognize it. Evilly, he pressed it to her back – the cold metal drew a shriek from her.

He _had_ imagined, when he started fantasizing about what he would do if he had the time on Valentine's Day, that he would bind her in the handcuffs immediately and throw her to the bed before she knew what was happening –

– But that was before Theo, before the Re-Education, before they started studying Unforgivables in class. Draco decided he'd trade off some of the immediate enjoyment in exchange for more of Ginny's precious trust. He let her feel the cuffs, realize what they were, before leaning in and asking, "May I?" She licked her lips. (Blaise shivered, then leaned in to lick them too.)

"I… yeah." Her smile, all he could see of her expression beneath the blindfold, was dreamy, and she curled into him, relaxed, trusting.

So after cinching one cuff around her wrist, as he was maneuvering her into backing up into the bed, bending her backwards, letting her down to the mattress and swiftly looping the chain of the Muggle cuffs around a bar of the headboard, he breathed into her ear, "I love you being like this." Then he cinched the other cuff, and watched her wriggle again with a great deal of satisfaction. She wasn't going anywhere now.

Blaise, impatient, tugged her by the ankles till she was lying completely prone. Now, all too eager, they simply Vanished their clothes, and gave themselves a few minutes of selfish enjoyment while she fidgeted restlessly before them – Draco could tell when she recognized the sounds of them stroking each other, because her fidgeting suddenly became quite a bit more intentional, her chest heaving, hips gyrating somewhat… his hand around Blaise tightened considerably, drawing a groan.

Ginny shuddered at the noise but continued to lay patiently, body on display. She _was_ being a very patient girl, putting up with their tricks, so after just another moment, Draco relented, and moved to stand by Ginny's side.

* * *

She was probably being a stupid vapid mindless twit. Just what she'd always despised. But Draco's words, "I love you being like this," echoed in her ears. And now even that was being drowned out by the roaring in her ears as her anticipation overwhelmed her.

Both boys latched on to her neck, sucking and making the roaring grow to a crescendo. Then Blaise ran his palm down her inner thigh, long nails tracing lines on her skin, and the entire experience became transcendental, as Ginny just accepted what Draco had said, what Blaise was murmuring under his breath as his lips followed his hand's path on her leg, and focused wholly on what they were doing to her – every single move they made jolted her, because she couldn't anticipate it. Well, and also because of how incredibly aroused she was.

They clambered all over her, making her hopelessly aware that they were all naked. When they brushed against her, her skin grew tight with the awareness that she was tied up and they weren't. For the first time, the awareness that they would have sex with her if she wanted didn't make her anxious.

It actually made her slightly more horny. She hadn't been sure she could _be_ more aroused.

And so when Draco – she was sure it was Draco, because Blaise's mouth was always much firmer and more demanding – lapped between her legs oh-so-delicately, she shrieked.

Serene as always, even in the face of her frustration, Blaise chuckled in her ear. Then she felt his finger probe her, fingernail parting her roughly but his finger sliding home smoothly, half because of his forcefulness, half because she was so sopping wet.

As his finger began to pump within her, Draco's tongue eased between her lips again.

"Sneaky – little – serpent," she spit out in jagged breaths. He just flicked his tongue in and out faster, and more gleefully.

As he started to suckle her, she was seeing stars. And with Blaise fingering her at the same time, she could feel an incredible orgasm ready to roar through her body quite shortly. The difference wasn't only in how intense the sensation building in her body was, though; she also felt a novel desire to… it was hard to put a label on it… to feel more…

At that moment, Blaise drew his hand back, and then thrust in again, another finger joining the first. That was what pushed Ginny over the brink – and made her realize what she was aching for. To feel, well, filled, inside. To have the heat and hardness of Draco's that was currently rubbing up against her leg, or of Blaise's, which Draco had in hand right now, pressing up inside her like Blaise's fingers…

She was still panting from the explosive climax, and from her realization, when Draco nibbled her, and Blaise shoved her legs wider, and they renewed their attack. By the time they took off the blindfold and released her from the Muggle cuffs, hours later, she was hoarse from shrieking for mercy.

Blaise cuddled her while Draco played the house-elf and fetched them some food. A bowl of spell-chilled ice cream helped Ginny's throat immensely, and large amounts of pasta were good for everyone's fortitude.

They spent the rest of the afternoon curled around each other – despite how burned out she was from the intense morning, the sensation of their naked bodies against hers made her painfully conscious of how much she would like, against all reason, to be even more intimate with them – never mind that falling asleep in a tangle of limbs with the two was already more intimate than she'd ever have dreamed of being with any boy at Hogwarts.

When they were all semi-awake, Blaise read them some choice passages from a new Janet Hieberus book. Titillating as they were, they mostly made Ginny smile, since, as she'd just realized, she had a great deal more intimacy surrounding her right then and there than could be found in the novel.

The afternoon thus frivolously frittered away, they dragged Ginny up to the Great Hall for an early dinner. Draco, with another malevolent smirk, shoved Ginny down into a place on the bench between he and Blaise, while casting a silent charm at the table. Blaise, playing evil Slytherin jailor, well-nigh threw her plate of food at her – and as she picked up her fork, he grabbed her arse firmly.

"Blaise!" she scolded, at his typically scandalous behavior. The hall was nearly empty, but the hungrier of the younger students, and the more tired of the older students already back from Hogsmeade, were likely to start trickling in shortly.

Then Draco practically flipped her skirt up to run a finger along the edges of her panties, making her muffle a squeal. "Didn't recognize the spell I cast, did you?"

She ran the wand-movements back through her memory – they were familiar – but she shook her head. "What was it?"

"A Notice-Me Not spell, of course," he told her scathingly, and tugged her panties down so he could run his fingers just barely above the copper curls he'd buried his face in earlier. "Now eat your meal, traitorous scum, and be glad we're feeding you!" he said much more loudly, the next moment flicking a finger to rub her intimately.

It was a twitchy meal, punctuated by nervous giggles.

* * *

The ravenous boys had stuffed themselves with what seemed a deplorable lack of restraint, probably since they had no fellow purebloods around to judge them.

When they got back to the dorm room, Blaise and Draco immediately collapsed on Draco's bed and loafed about, announcing themselves completely satiated. "Shame," commented Ginny, smirking. Draco finally looked up from his pillow, in time to see Ginny pull off her skirt.

"Perhaps," Blaise allowed, "we're not… completely… satiated."

"Perhaps," Ginny retorted with an attempt at stealing one of their mocking smiles, "I can fix that."

In the interest of being cooperative, both boys smiled brilliantly at her, and shucked their trousers, laying back obligingly.

She rolled her eyes that only now would they _ever_ be obedient, and proceeded to crawl up the bed between them. Unexpectedly, she stopped half-way there.

Draco's look of puzzlement when she halted her progress was very shortly replaced when Ginny's fingers encircled him, tugged him towards her, and gave a tentative lick. His face went entirely blank when she bent her head to take him in her mouth, and he groaned. Blaise's eyes were shining, and he immediately proceeded to tangle his hands in Ginny's hair. He kept himself from pushing her to take more of Draco than she wanted to, but when she shifted and switched to wrap her mouth around him, he couldn't help tugging lightly on her curls, urging her to go deeper.

He felt her chuckle vibrate through his body as she obliged. By the time she finished them both off, switching back and forth the whole way, they really were satiated. Draco lay back, utterly boneless. Blaise stayed alert only long enough to shift and position himself to collapse on top of Ginny, pinning her in place with the heavy weight of his muscled, sweat-shining shoulder.

* * *

She contained herself with incredibly steely control for fifteen minutes until their breathing had evened out, the heavy humidity of the room had dispersed, and the sheets were cool against her skin again. Then she shoved Blaise aside, sat up and glared dead into both their eyes in turn.

"Fota?" Blaise asked.

Draco was positively on edge. "Ginny… is… anything _wrong?_"

"Not yet," she informed them, clarifying very little.

"Could you tell us what _might_ be wrong?" Blaise asked, patronizingly.

"It's Valentine's."

"Yep," Blaise agreed in an indulgent tone. Draco elbowed him in an attempt to telegraph a message along the lines of 'Be _serious_.'

"You got _your_ dessert."

Blaise's smirk bloomed across his face. "Oh, did we."

"Is there, um, something you would like? Sweetheart?" Draco asked, the word coming out like a nervous gulp.

The glare intensified, till Blaise would have sworn he felt it on his face, like sharp, possibly red-hot pins. Draco felt it as the sting of a swarm of Bat-Bogeys. Ginny enunciated very carefully: "It's Valentine's. I've been your sweetheart, as you say… unconventional as that term may be, when applied to the three of us – but you both better hope on your lives that you got me some Valentine's chocolates."

She'd spoken in such a deadly, icy chill that it took poor, petrified Draco a moment to process – only Blaise breaking down and shaking with laughter jolted him out of his fixation on making sure the words "Chiropterae sinus" were not about to come out of Ginny's mouth.

Blaise's laughter, though, made it all the more likely that he'd face that hideous hex again. Draco hissed at him, "Bloody moron." That did nothing to stop his convulsions, but a sharp kick to his shin did the trick, and they both scrambled, Draco to the same drawer he'd drawn the handcuffs from, Blaise to a box under his own bed.

"Here," Draco said, panting slightly, as he shoved a huge gift basket assortment into Ginny's arms.

"All yours, Fairest," Blaise told her, kneeling on bended knee and presenting on both open palms a box of all dark-chocolate truffle varieties. "So… will you be sparing us?"

"Well…" she drawled. "That depends." Her smirk seemed to grow points at the corners of her mouth; at any rate, her expression grew quite wicked. "How much stamina do you have?" She popped a truffle into her mouth, licked her lips, and gave a small moan of enjoyment.

Both boys smirked back.

_

* * *

A.N. - Yeah, enjoy, people! Thanks for the reviews - probably that's why you all get such a gooey chapter._


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

_From an order slip received by Ginny:_

_I'm asking my Korean pen-pal if I can move in with her at the end of this school year, and if it's possible I'd really appreciate something to send with her as a gift, to soften her up. Something more flat-ish, like a portrait, would be best since it's got to go by international owl; an Asian sort of design would also be good; beyond that, I don't know what would convince her to let me move there. Unless you made a depiction of a Death Eater, and me dead unless she lets me join her family. No, seriously, something beautiful would be good, to impress her…_

_Zynia Glock_

_From a half-assed plan of Blaise's:_

"_I suppose if we sort of _surprised_ her into sleeping with us? Here, if you go and – no, ok, _I_ would go, and collect some sort of Muggle things? And… have a tea party with them, or a picnic… er… Or what if we kidnap her from school again and take her somewhere even more astonishing… well, yeah, that didn't get us any progress last time, true… ok, no, I don't know how we would out-do Kama Sutra either. I don't hear you coming up with schemes, though…"_

* * *

Ginny looked over the order slip and sighed; she had till the end of the school year to fill the order, but the end of the school year contained both the final match of the year against Ravenclaw, right before Easter, and the stupid CATS, which sounded horrendous, especially the ones for sixth years, who were taking a version twice as long as the first through third years.

She'd better do it this weekend. And she'd planned to spend the scant hours not on the pitch, in Blaise and Draco's arms. Well, she supposed she'd have to see if they wanted to go out to the forest with her. They did get so _fussy_ about things she needed to do that weren't either of them… Though in fairness, about ninety percent of their fussing was set off when she had to leave a cozy evening with them for the chore she had to carry out like clockwork, nine o'clock at night every night. And it didn't help that the first such instance had been in the afterglow of Valentine's, when she'd 'left them for Theo,' as Blaise would have it.

She winced at the memory. It wasn't _like_ that – well, _technically,_ it was, and to Theo, it was, too – but she was only leaving them to _foil_ Theo's plans, and she'd come back the second the last first year had scampered safely away… half an hour later, at which point they'd dressed and remembered Snape's lab report was due the next day. It hadn't ruined the otherwise perfect day, but it wasn't the nightcap to the evening that any of them wanted. So, she was being extremely cautious around Blaise and Draco these days when she had anything to ask of them besides permission to strip them of their clothes and see which of them she could bring to climax first.

* * *

When she oh-so-politely asked if the boys would accompany her down to the Forbidden Forest, they proved very stubborn.

"Well, my dear, with all regrets – I did have _plans_ for Saturday," Blaise said regretfully.

"Yes – really, Ginevra, you ought to plan a tad less precipitously. One should always allow a week's worth of warning when one is issuing invitations," Draco informed her, obviously quoting something.

She glared into their maliciously gleeful faces. Pretending to be cowed, Blaise reconsidered: "Or… well, if you accommodate _our_ plans, we could accommodate yours."

"What were your plans?" she asked, scrambling to hang on to her patience now that they were actually willing to compromise.

"Religious obligations," Draco cut in firmly before Blaise could say something that, judging by the way his violet eyes twinkled, was going to be quite naughty.

"Religious…. obligations?" she echoed, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, definitely," Blaise seconded. "Meet us in the north-west tower at midnight on Friday night if you're willing to partake of the rites." His ghoulish grin told her that Blaise knew just how ominous he was making it sound.

_Partake of the rites_ – all Ginny could think of was the 'Wiccan Spiritualist Club' a few Muggleborns had created out of a fad a few years ago – it had seemed to involve stealing a month's supply of candles from Filch and a number of prized Herbology specimens, and had since been dissolved. But somehow she couldn't imagine Blaise or Draco sitting around reading Muggle spellbooks and talking about their inner feminine divinity. Well… she couldn't picture Draco doing it, anyway. She gave an uncertain agreement anyway, and headed off to meet with Neville – she could work on sketches for Zynia's order while he planned graffiti raids.

* * *

It was a red-faced Ginny who met Draco and Blaise in an outer courtyard Saturday morning after their night of 'religious rites.'

Both boys were rumpled and tired from how late they'd spent up on the observation platform of the tower last night. The second-tallest in the school, it actually had better heat-wards than the Astronomy Tower… and was less trafficked by curfew-breaking teens than the more popular Astronomy Tower, as well. Ginny could see why the boys had been loathe to plan anything for mid-day Saturday – she felt like she could have used another six hours of sleep, at the very least.

It had been worth it though… her face grew more crimson still, at the approach of the yawning boys, Draco futilely trying to keep his eyes open, Blaise stumbling on the hem of his robes. Their exhaustion didn't make them completely dull, though – Blaise quickly caught on to the fact that her face was glowing like a sun.

"Ahh, the cruel light of day… it can make us cringe, to think of the things we whispered in drunken passions the night before…"

Ginny gave him a quick hurt glare, before stomping across the echoing flagstones, seizing Draco's arm, and double-time marching him towards the gate to the grounds, leaving Blaise entirely behind.

"My always-perceptive arsehole lover has guessed wrong again?" Draco snickered, with not a little bit of sadistic enjoyment.

"Couldn't be more wrong," Ginny agreed in a tight, fierce mutter.

He wriggled his arm loose, in order to slip it snuggly round Ginny's waist. "So I get you all to myself for right now?" he purred in her ear.

Knowing Blaise was tramping, disgruntled, a few yards behind them, she cupped Draco's skinny arse, and gave it a pinch.

…She'd been fairly unsurprised when she'd arrived at the top of the tower and both boys were already naked, and insisted she disrobe as well. That they did not immediately ravage her or each other _did_ leave Ginny a bit taken aback. Blaise had fussily arranged them to lay in a three-pointed formation, heads in the center. Draco had then taken over, intoning something in Latin.

After a few moments of silence, in which her eyes had adjusted to the very slight light of the crescent moon, he began pointing out familiar constellations and spinning new stories out of them – new to her, at least, as she'd looked it up later and found that they were famously Slytherin versions of the stories. So Andromeda, rather than a hapless daughter punished for her mother's sins and fortunately saved by a great, good hero, was the shrewd one who convinced Poseidon to take her to chain to the rocks, instead of her mother, foreseeing that the rather Gryffindorish hero would be unable to resist saving her, and his seed would make her mother of a line of great conquerors, the Persians.

If she ignored the 'morals' of his stories, Ginny found that she rather admired the characters.

When Draco ran out of energy to continue the recitations, Blaise sat up and generated some sort of silvery paint, tracing a loopy runic symbol over everyone's hearts…

Ginny snuggled closer yet to Draco, remembering what she'd found when she looked _those_ up, this morning before meeting the boys. "Love's anchor," Blaise's meant; Draco's declared him "Fiercely Devoted," and hers was "Open Heart."

Behind them, Blaise harrumphed at her for snuggling with his boyfriend, then yelped – looking back over her shoulder, Ginny saw he'd tripped on a tree root, not realizing how close they were to the Forest's tree line.

She'd already explained her new design to the boys; certainly after a few days of sketching, she knew well enough what she was looking for that she could automatically scan for twigs of the appropriate thickness, straightness and smoothness.

Which left the majority of her mind free to think back to after the star-gazing… Their runes had sparked, then sank in under their skin. That had apparently marked the end of the 'rites' – at least, it was the point that Draco broke out a bottle of Dom Perignon and Blaise broke out a cheesy line about turning away from the stars and worshipping _her,_ now.

Opening the bottle, they had sprinkled flecks of foam across her body and lapped them up. When she was shivering under their touch, begging for more, they'd run out of foam to fling at her, so while Blaise conjured champagne flutes, Draco lapped his tongue over the freckles on Ginny's neck, murmuring something under his breath. When she'd sat half-way up, asking him to repeat himself, he grinned, poking her with a finger to get her to lie back down again and, starting with her arm, traced her freckles to form constellations, his feather light touches making the hair on the back of her arms stand on end.

When he finished showing her how a cluster on her thigh made Scorpio, he moved to her lower stomach, attempting to convince her that Virgo arched just above her groin. She'd told him he was full of it – he insisted, though.

Blaise broke into their laughing argument to serve up the champagne. Somehow, they killed the whole bottle between them, drifting into a warm, cuddly, vaguely conscious state.

Both of them were looming over her, caressing her, when she'd brought it up. Suggesting that even if Draco was just delusional in seeing the constellation Virgo guarding the entrance to her chastity, as it was, she certainly wouldn't mind their help in getting rid of her more metaphorical 'Virgo' status.

The reaction had been dismal. "Silly duck – drunk – darling," Blaise had tried to coo, slurring, before shifting her head into his lap. Ginny's failed attempt to twist round and snap her teeth at his bits had only earned her another patronizing chuckle. Her successful attempt to get her mouth around him and work it for all she was worth seemed to be helping make her case – but at the end he was left satisfied but still refused to satisfy _her_ request.

He seemed to find it all quite funny. Draco was more sympathetic – or, she'd conjectured cynically, more tempted – but he tucked her curls out of her face while she was bringing Blaise to climax, then carefully kept his distance between their bodies when he reached out to knead her folds of skin, his finger bearing down on her until she had to give in…

Somehow, the foolish boys had thought that giving in to Draco's insistent pleasuring meant that she had given in on the issue of sleeping with them. Ginny did her best to move past the sting of rejection, and focused on the fact that they'd both evinced a desire to fuck her silly a ridiculous number of times in the past.

So as she started searching for Dragonius Crocuses – they wouldn't bloom for another few weeks, so she was in no danger of sustaining burns, and could still pick apart the buds for small, delicate petals to use in the mural she'd planned – Ginny started in on Draco, the weaker link. "So. What do you think are the odds are that I can find a non-Whomping type of willow on the grounds?"

"We might want to look along the length of that stream, mightn't we?" he offered in all earnestness.

"Yeah, good thought. And, so what do you think the odds are that you two will do what I asked you to last night, eventually?"

To his credit, he made no pretense of not knowing what she was talking about. "Er. You were serious? – I mean," he interrupted himself before she could jump all over him for that, "Obviously you were serious at the time, but… you're still serious?" She gave him a cold look. "Er. That's a yes, then." He gave a gusty breath. "Hah – no wonder you're pissed at Blaise…"

Irked that his thoughts were on his ill-behaved boyfriend and not her proposition, Gin pulled back a branch so that it would snap back to slap Draco as he passed it. "Ow, not nice," he complained.

In reply, she growled back, "Not nice? Try 'Oh, Ginny, you want to have sex, haha, cute,' for _not nice._" Then the feelings of frustration from last night welled back up with full force, and she burst out: "I thought you two… _wanted me_. Wanted to – to sleep with me." She winced as the words spilled out, painfully aware that her emotional outburst was dragging this conversation from 'The Revenge of the Ginny' territory into the realm of true emotions, and that showing her wounded pride just meant exposing herself to other blows to her dignity.

Draco snagged her wrist, and whirled her up against a tree, immediately and without preface inserting his tongue in her mouth. "Well, of course," he told her when he stopped kissing her breathless. "And we'll deflower you as soon as possible, love." Again, without a hint of warning, he pounced – this time, up her skirt, plunging two fingers inside her. Even as she ground against his thrusting hand, she was wincing at how he stretched her – and he'd definitely caught the expression that crossed her face. "Yes, there's reason one I say 'as soon as possible'…" he said with a pout.

"And the other?" she panted, reaching between their bodies to stroke the bulge of his pants.

"Well, the other was simply that we'd want you entirely clear-headed when we make you lose your mind with pleasure." His timing was fiendishly good – his ministrations had served to slick his fingers well enough that just as he promised to make her lose her mind, he stroked her g-spot, and she writhed at the fiery rush of sensation through her stomach and groin. He backed her against the tree, and pulling her hand off his erection, pressed himself against her while his other hand continued pumping. "It's so much better," he panted in her ear, "to have you stone-sober – so that – when you've become absolutely raving mad with – what we're doing – to you, we know – just what a damn good job – we've done."

Ginny was completely dizzy with the orgasm rushing over her, given how Draco's fingers were working furiously within her and his hips were pressing insistently against her… only as she opened her eyes did she realize her feet weren't on the ground – she had wrapped her legs around Draco's waist.

Sheepish, she wiggled and Draco let her down again, slipping his fingers out and waving merrily at Blaise, who took this as a sign he was finally allowed to approach. Being Blaise, he grabbed Draco's hand and licked Ginny's juices from it. "Working out some issues, here?" he asked when he was done sucking Draco's fingers.

"Draco and I have," Ginny told him. "We've decided he's going to take my virginity."

Blaise's reaction was comical – he apparently couldn't make up his mind how to react, whether in jealousy, or arousal. He'd told Ginny often enough – and foully enough – how turned on he was simply imagining her with his boyfriend. But he'd also told her how badly he wanted to flip up her skirt, rip off her blouse, tug down her 'delicious school-girl knee-highs,' and shag her till she screamed his name.

If Ginny wasn't in control when she and Draco had talked, at least she could be now. Patting his shoulder, she told him gently, "Don't worry. If you're good, we'll let you watch." Before he could react to the patronization, she let her hand accidently-on-purpose drift across his thigh, up to his groin, and along the length of his erection.

Then she skipped away from both of them, and set off in pursuit of fox-grass, still adjusting her crumpled, damp panties and completely crooked skirt as she walked.

* * *

Her latest and greatest design was finally finished – split twigs arranged like bamboo taking up one side of the black background, slivers of fox-grass tufting along the bottom, slices of icicles, under an Everlasting Ice charm, forming a trickling waterfall, and the miniscule blossoms of Dragonius Crocuses scattered everywhere as though a wind were sweeping them along. If that didn't help Zynia Glock secure lodging outside the country, nothing could.

Ordinarily, Ginny would have been over the moon with satisfaction. But ordinarily – three out of every four weeks, anyway – she wasn't cramping and suffering from a hellish headache. Frankly, she was sure that the pain in her temples wasn't PMS in the slightest – just the frustration of having to tell Blaise and Draco that they wouldn't be deflowering her as planned when they hung out in her workroom tonight, they way they'd immediately planned when she got around to forgiving Blaise for disbelieving her.

It was such a shame too – she'd been prepared and everything, going to Madam Pomfrey to ask for rubbers, only to be told the castle had been charmed to ensure that those teenagers less… thoughtful – than her were safe as well. Her mum would have been so proud. Well, about the being safe part, anyway. If she knew _who_ – or _how many_… well, Mum might've died in horror at the thought of 'what if your father ever found out…' the phrase she'd often repeated when furtively giving Ginny the necessary information about contraceptives in the first place.

Well, and, in fairness, it was a shame beyond just the practical matters in the dilemma at hand. Ginny affixed the package to Zynia's owl, patted the empty-headed thing one more time to flatter it, and let it fly out of the tower, leaving her completely alone. Skivving off Herbology was her favorite way to spend afternoons, in the past. Nowadays, her favorite thing was skiving off anything that allowed her to sneak off with Blaise and Draco…

She growled again, frustrated, and flopped back on her bed. In fairness, they had kept her company through the last hour of time she was supposed to be spending in the Greenhouses, delaying leaving for their meeting with the Carrows until they were bound to be late. But now, without them, she was so bored she was honestly contemplating pulling out her Potions essay and working on that.

Then something green fluttered in the window. Idly, she aimed her wand, intending to waft the stray leaf back out the window with a quick charm, but it alighted on the tip of her wand instead, and blinked at her.

It was a bird, or at least, a piece of note-paper meant to look like a bird. She blinked curiously at her, at which point it bit her.

"Fuck you, Blaise," she cursed at it, and obediently unwrapped his – what was it, origgimmy? – Japanese paper-magic thing.

Sure enough, it was a note.

"You know, much as it pains us to suggest anything leading to you finding solace outside of _our_ arms, that Christmas present I gave you is waterproof…

Hope you follow my line of reasoning here – you stand to enjoy this afternoon much more than we are right now, if you're a good, obedient Gin and do the naughty things your wise lovers tell you!... Whoops, Carrow's looking this way -"

Ginny pouted momentarily at Blaise's presumption, omniscience, and generally interfering way of putting very stupid ideas in her head.

Then she grabbed her towel, a set of clean clothes, and a small, pink ball. If she was going to buy into all that 'sleeping with them' nonsense, she might as well follow all his suggestions, and with that thought, she went to take a shower in the middle of the afternoon.

* * *

_  
A.N. - hey all_, _sorry this took forever! But I've been trying to work on this chapter at the same time as Chapters 20 and 21, because (at least for now) they are slated to be the last chapters of the story! (If you couldn't tell by the content of this chapter what direction things are headed... hehe.) Well... if you LIKE the direction things are headed, let me know!_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

_From Blaise's murderous tirade entitled "Things to Be Crucified for Getting Between Me and The Hottest Red-Head I've Ever Seen Who Also Happens to Want to Nail My Boyfriend:_

_Pandora, for opening some damn box and letting out that thing known as menstruation.  
Carrows.  
Death-Eaters in general.  
The common cold virus.  
Xavier, Nicholas, Snitches, and those blokes who invented Quidditch.  
For good measure, everyone who likes Quidditch save the lad and lass I will be nailing AS SOON AS FUCKING WELL POSSIBLE!_

* * *

Blaise and Draco's meeting apparently dragged on right through dinner – at least, Ginny didn't see them at the Slytherin table. She shrugged, going to the library straight from the Great Hall, knowing they'd look for her there once they were free to come find her.

When they did turn up about forty minutes later, Draco immediately sighed, "Thank Salazar you're _here_."

She gave him a slight smile and a curious look. "Well, naturally. I'd hardly try and make things more difficult by making you sneak up to the girls' dorm."

"GOOD," they chorused emphatically, and now Ginny was truly puzzled.

Fortunately, Blaise was too impatient and agitated to play coy. "Carrow's convinced that your lot is planning some insurrection or somesuch…" he informed her, running both hands through his previously-immaculate hair.

Ginny almost lurched out of her seat. "They – are the Gryffindors in danger?"

"No! Merlin, we'd tell you right off the bat if that were the case," he reassured her.

"No we bloody wouldn't," Draco muttered at the same time as Ginny scoffed, "Like hell you would, you'd probably sit on me so I couldn't do anything useful at all." They both snickered at their simultaneous retorts, and at Blaise.

He shrugged it off – "Anyway, it's nothing to do with the Gryffindors being in danger – just _us_."

She blinked. "What? How's that? We're not even planning anything! And why would you two –"

"Because Alecto decided it would be best if she could reach us any time she wanted," Draco answered, humor draining right out of his tone.

Distaste dawned over Ginny's face. "Wait – what does that entail…?"

"Tracking spells for the next two weeks, so she knows where we are at all times," Blaise said dully.

"Oh, Merlin," she said, nose wrinkling, then thought about the plans they'd had for her cozy little workshop's couch. "Oh, _mother-fucking Merlin_."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed. What you said," he seconded with a delicate sneer.

"That slut-faced bitch cu-" Ginny mumbled, the rest of her words cut off as she settled in Blaise's arms, burying her face emphatically in his chest.

"Believe me," Blaise informed her hunched shoulders, all he could see of her at that angle, "we are rather annoyed about it all as well." His tone was dry, and his hands were only making it all worse, running up the back of one leg and under her belly, attempting to meet between her legs.

Wisely, she shook him off rather than try to shag him in the middle of the library. All they needed was being caught by a Ravenclaw coming over to complain about them making noise. "My room's out, my workshop's _definitely_ out, since it's the single most direct link to me we could possibly offer them… what about Slytherin?"

"Theo," glowered Draco.

"Hogsmeade," Blaise reminded Draco, hopefully – the next weekend was indeed in the middle of the second week of their horrid two-week entrapment.

Ginny looked from one face to the other, clearly uncomfortable with losing her virginity in the dormitory of several boys who would like nothing more than her death. But she was biting her lip and tilting her chin in a way that telegraphed her overriding desire to have sex despite anything.

Draco took note of her expression – "No. Too dangerous," he ruled flatly.

"If we did it rii-i-ii-ight in the middle of the day," Blaise wheedled. Ginny's eyes were wider and more hopeful still.

Draco really was putty in their hands. Briefly he regretted losing all that Malfoy Death-Eater-steeliness. "We'll see," he told them.

* * *

"What do you think?"

Ginny blinked, fish-like. "What do I think of…" she asked leadingly, having been fantasizing rather than paying attention.

"Of turning all their clothes Gryffindor colors," Neville repeated patiently.

"They – oh, _them?_" She finally cottoned on. "Why would we provoke Death Eaters like that?"

"To keep up everyone's spirits!" he insisted. "Between the hellishness in class, with the Carrows, and the hellishness outside of class, with Inquisitorial Squad prefects and detentions –"

"-Most people don't have anything like the number of detentions you do," Ginny pointed out with a smirk, slouching back against the sofa that was increasingly, as she grew weary, resembling a beanbag chair or a mound of pillows. Fondly, she gave the floor of the Room of Requirement an approving pat.

"- Alright, but the _threat_ of getting detention just for having a parent who's not one of _theirs_, or for bleeding talking about someone – something – they don't like…"

Later, Ginny would talk to her dormmates, and find out that they'd been trying to find her all day to let her know that Neville had been distraught over a threat the Carrows had made on his mentioning Luna's name, and she would hate herself for not knowing, and not seizing the opportunity to comfort him. Meanwhile, she was only mindful of Blaise and Draco's warnings about the Carrows' paranoia.

She sighed, only barely conceding the point. "Ok, fine. Everyone's emotions are down, morale is taking a hit. That's what McGonagall's class is for," (said class having turned into a ray of sunshine in their lives, with their professor doing her damndest to ensure that every student – from Hufflepuff to Slytherin – felt just as secure and at peace as they had under Dumbledore's reign, for at least the hour they spent each day in Transfiguration.) "And Quidditch, of course," she said with an arrogant flip of her hair.

Neville favored that with a tolerant sigh. "The students need to know that fighting back is possible – it'll raise their spirits."

"But that's _dumb_… just changing the colors of their clothes – it doesn't _accomplish_ anything!"

Neville looked angry, so she shrank back a bit when he bounced out of his seat. But he only came around the beat-up coffee table to her squashy seat, sitting knee-to-knee with her, and seizing her hand. "Ginny – I'm not deluded, you know. I know that they'll change them back in a trice, and that it probably just means I'm landing myself in another hour of detention every night." Ginny tried to say something, so Neville stopped expectantly, but she hesitated, scowled, and shut her mouth, so he went on; "But you know what? Our classmates? They don't want a strategic rollback of Death Eaters throughout the country. Well, I mean, they do, but not here, and now – all they want here and now, is for things to be ordinary. Trivial, schoolkid things."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "You can't help knowing there's a larger world – between Harry, and your parents, and the wedding this summer… And, well," his face twisted into a regretful wince, "I can't help knowing that, either." Out of habit so ingrained, Ginny didn't think he'd noticed himself doing it, Neville threw a glance at the spot where the Room materialized chairs for Luna when she had been there. "They – our classmates – they can help knowing it. And we can help them knowing it, too. So if they have some bit of a stunt to chatter about and laugh with each other over, then that's less time they're thinking about the war."

Ginny squirmed. Never had she actually believed in what Neville was doing so much… after he explained it that way, she wanted to help more than anything else.

But never before had she had such a credible threat to a plan of his, either. She squirmed some more, remembering his joking assertion sometime after he'd let her Slytherins up into the girl's dorm, after all three boys had reluctantly helped her defraud Theo: 'So you'll weasel all the relevant information out of them for me, right?'

She'd stiffly told him he was a blockhead; granted, that was unfair, as he hadn't been there over Christmas break when Charlie told her and the twins what had happened to a spy of the Order's, a spy who had passed secrets that had simply been too accurate, too useful – when the Order acted on the information, it was a tell-tale sign of his betrayal, letting the Ministry know who their leak had to have been, the knowledge the Order demonstrated being far too specific

As soon as the Ministry found out, the leak had promptly been plugged…

So Ginny had vowed to Neville, and to herself, at that time, not to confide any secrets which could be traced back to the boys she loved. Now, though…

Guiltily, she told him the bare bones. That there was no worse time he could possibly aggravate them, that for all he knew they'd take it as the beginning of an insurrection and clap the entire school in irons. Of course, once she'd dissuaded him, guilt pricked her from the other direction – she _knew_ she shouldn't spill things like that, hell, Neville even knew that… "Please. Please Merlin – I know you're meeting with the DA Captains later," she said, not even giggling at their self-chosen title as usual. "I know they'll be raring for mischief, but you've got to swear, not a word, alright?"

Calmly, he grabbed her hands again, which had been flying every direction in agitated punctuation to her begging. "Ginny. Ginny, here. Take this."

She obediently held out her palm for the ragged sheet of parchment. In fact, it felt more like vellum, and between that, and the spell it contained, she knew he had to have stolen it from his grandmother.

"Damn," she breathed in awe, and gave him a look of such burning admiration that he flushed. "And… you're willing to do this?"

"Of course," he assured her, taking back the parchment entitled _"The Fidelius Charm and its Sister Spells."_

In no time at all, they selected one of the more minor secret-binding castings, and Ginny's indiscretion was safe again. She was still alternatively marveling that he was willing to bind himself, and thanking him, when a thought struck her – "Hey – if you're willing to do this… there's no reason for me not to pass on _any_ useful information, so long as you bind yourself not to act in a way that reveals you _have_ it… it would still be great for strategy, though, wouldn't it?"

Neville's round face was split by a Slytherin-esque smirk. "And why do you think I wanted to prove my trustworthiness to you so dramatically, anyway?"

The significance of him just happening to have the spell in his pocket only dawned on her then… "Oh. _Oh._ You planned this whole thing, did you? Just to get better intelligence?"

He dissolved into peals of laughter at the shock on her face and at his own success. "I know… so sly and clever of me… does it impress you?" He batted his eyes coquettishly. "Or do you need a shiny little 'I' pin on the robes next to a serpent patch, to really be taken with a boy?"

Groping behind her, Ginny's fingers closed around a pillow that was just the size and heft she needed. "You…" _WHACK!_ "…will _pay_, you sneaky little Longbottom!" she shrieked, pummeling him.

* * *

By the following weekend, Draco was absolutely wild for Blaise's mouth, Ginny's breasts, Blaise's toned arse, Ginny's legs wrapped round his hips… they'd managed a single, very dangerous tryst in the boy's loo with her, and even the satiation afterwards was countered by guilt for how foolhardy the whole thing had been – a bare minute after she'd escaped out into the empty corridor, Seamus Finnegan walked in and glared suspiciously at the way Draco and Blaise were clearly colluding, as he washed his hands.

Unfortunately, when Hogsmeade weekend came, none of them could muster the nerve to get completely naked and have at it with abandon, because Goyle was staying in the castle with a cold. Blaise had tried to persuade him that morning that "fresh spring air down in the village was really what he needed to feel better," but even Greg wasn't that stupid. He was huddled by the fire instead, sniffing and snorting miserably. Though they'd locked him out, Draco and Blaise were still too anxious about wanting their wands at hand so they could quickly disguise their illicit visitor if needed.

Ginny had to make do with only one of them at a time, with the other's distracted attention, and that, they decided, was far beneath what their little prize deserved her first time. They settled for plunging fingers and tongues into her instead.

Then came the lifting of the tracking spells.

He and Blaise immediately stole off into an abandoned classroom the moment Carrow removed them, the bug-eyed witch crowing all the while about having defeated the insidious mutiny through their combined vigilance. The boys sealed the room, and stripped each other in a serious, dogged way, hands not even grazing each other enticingly – once they were both bare-arsed, Blaise hopped up on a desk for Draco, who was better with these things after half a summer with the Carrows, to wield his wand, casting a complex runic-based detection spell. Brow furrowed, when the first spell came up clean, he cast another two successively. After the third washed over Blaise in a white sparkle, he finally allowed himself to breath deeply. "Clean," he told Blaise, and they kissed each other deeply.

For the sake of thoroughness Blaise cast the best spell of detection he could, which confirmed that Draco was equally free of any hidden trackers. In this instance the Carrows were dealing squarely with them. It was worth checking – only a month ago, they'd set up a third year junior Inquisitorial Squad member, and came down hard on him when he'd innocently let off a friend who had supposedly committed some transgression. In reality, they'd kept the girl around solely to bait him with, ordering her to entrap him so they could punish him and 'toughen him up.' Then the girl, whose blood documents were found to be forged, was taken away before he'd even healed from Cruciatus sufficiently to find her and say goodbye.

Draco was fervently grateful that the two people in the entire castle for whom he cared were pureblood beyond any question. Now… to find the other, and show her just how much he cared…

When Ginny finally turned up, late, to dinner, Blaise and Draco exchanged dubious looks. She'd proven so difficult to find all day, that they were reluctant to let her go now they'd pinned her down. But Theo was only five seats away, and if either of them were to go over to her, even under cover of trying to harass her, he would be alerted, as they'd supposedly abandoned her.

Then, wryly, Draco realized the next time they could concretely count on their Weasley to reappear. "There's only two things a Gryffindor and a Weasley can be relied on to do," he reminded Blaise. "Show up to eat," (they both grinned fondly over at where Ginny was devouring about three and a half dinners at once,) "and hare off to save people."

When she came out of the classroom where the first years were chained each night, at about 9:15, Blaise and Draco were waiting on either side of the door.

"Merciful Merlin," she greeted them, "have you been waiting here long?"

"Since about a minute after nine," Draco confirmed. "Didn't want you to slip away."

"Oh, jeez… that's right, lurk around and terrify the escaping first-years," she groaned, rebuking them.

"We only glared at them, and bared our teeth a bit," Blaise objected in a mild tone, laughing. In reality, he'd actually been distributing boxes of Levitating Sherbets to them. He rather thought Ginny didn't need to know that touch of soppiness.

"So. It's been two weeks," Draco pointed out as, automatically, she fell in walking between them and they headed away from Theo's realm and into a little-travelled stretch of corridors.

Slumping against Blaise, she moaned wearily, "Oh, I _knowwww_. We've only had _one_ practice this past week, do you know? And it's only a week till the bloody final!"

Blaise dropped the arm he'd loped around her waist, confused by the turn of subject. Draco, meanwhile, was wholly distracted from the point he'd wanted to push, about the Carrows' removal of the tracking spells. "Oh, by all that's holy, Gin! Ravenclaw's been training up a storm."

"I _knowwww_," she lamented again. "That's why I was out on the pitch all day. I've scheduled us for practice twice a day for the rest of the time before the match."

"That's good," he started to tell her encouragingly; "If you've got an organized enough practice, you'll be able to pull together the team and be perfectly well honed for the match…"

But – "That's _terrible_!" Blaise exclaimed at the same time. Hearing Draco's encouragement, he glared his boyfriend down. Draco shook himself like a dog, blinking, before he managed to remember just why that was a terrible thing.

"Ginny – we only just this morning managed to win free of the stupid charms on us, that were keeping us from giving you what you've been _begging_ for," Blaise scolded pointedly.

"Oh, _fuck_," she said, looking miserable but not penitent when he pointed this out to her. Her expression was knotted with guilt – "I can't keep ignoring my team like I have been, though… Gryffindor needs this match!"

Draco grimaced, knowing from his observation of the increasingly long faces of the lion's table at mealtimes that that was true. Blaise caught that sympathetic face, and shot him a betrayed look. "Quidditch-mad loons," he muttered despairingly. Draco swiftly hooked a foot around to jab Blaise in the ankle and silence him.

Blaise had learned from the star-watching incident, and the aftermath resulting in Draco being tapped to be the first to have sex with Ginny, that perhaps sometimes he ought to let his more sensitive boyfriend take the lead. Wisely, he let it go, for once.

"So you're tied up during all your free periods?" he asked dolefully, instead.

"Well… _not_ tied up," she said, with a fond grin for memories of Valentine's Day.

"More's the shame," Draco chipped in. "Although it might make it difficult to play Chaser if you were tied to a bedpost," he informed her sagely.

"_Really_, Draco? Do tell me just whyever that won't work?"

"Sarcastic wench," he shot back immediately, and, as they were surrounded by silent hallways and locked up classrooms, he tugged her against him, leaned against a wall, and procured a long, deep kiss which served well to quiet the wench, until Blaise started grinding against her and the combination of both boys pressed up on each side of her forced Ginny to break her silence..

* * *

The day of the match dawned foggily. Ginny was willing to forgive the weather that treachery, so long as it didn't rain as it had every afternoon so far this week.

It rained in spite of her wishes. Nicholas was whey-faced when he met her in the team's strategy room, and she knew why – his training had proceeded very poorly in the rain, and he'd been hoping desperately for at least a dull, cloudy, but dry day, if not the clear skies that had favored his successful matches.

That was alright, though. She had faith in him, and told him as much. It wasn't as if he couldn't catch it in the rain – it just took longer, and so she devoted nearly half of her pre-match pep talk to instructions for the Beaters on how to keep Xavier Morris from being able to fly straight, much less find snitches quickly.

Her Beaters did just as well as she could have hoped. Unfortunately, Ravenclaw's offense did just as well as she ever could have feared.

The game ended with a score of 410-90.

Ginny landed her broom on the pitch in a daze, as did the rest of the team; it was probably a miracle none of them ploughed a furrow into the grass, with how distracted they were. Ravenclaw was storming the other end of the pitch, while, alone, the Gryffindor team huddled around their goalposts. Lavender was immediately crying hysterically.

That was probably what let Ginny keep it together. "Lav. Lav, come on now, Lavender. Come here." She took up the older girl in her arms, working on hustling her off the field, into the clubhouse and out of the rain.

Lavender was distraught but obeyed, only sniffling something about "Let so many in… worse than Ron…"

Sitting in the locker room and letting her sobbing friend rest her head against her shoulder, Ginny rubbed Lav's back soothingly. She nodded to Jimmy and Ritchie, who were clear-eyed with the knowledge that they'd done what they were supposed to, and done it well… though that didn't keep them from sagging under the weight of crushed hopes, and miserable defeat.

The boys knew what she was nodding for; hastily, they rummaged in her locker, shoving aside the champagne she'd bought in favor of the bottle of cheap firewhiskey. Demelza snagged the bottle for the first shot, before Erin swiped it to administer a shot to Nicholas, who needed it most – his lips were trembling, trying not to cry, and his whole frame was trembling with exhaustion.

Jimmy conjured actual glasses for himself and Ritchie, and passed the bottle on to Ginny. She ignored his true intention of getting some alcohol into her, to buoy her, and instead focused on coaxing Lavender to try some. She knew from the Gryffindor Christmas party that Lav and Parvati loathed liquor, but also knew that if she could get two or three shots into her, Lavender would just collapse into bed and sleep away her misery.

Luckily, her Keeper was still guilt-wracked enough to feel it was appropriate to suffer, and she spluttered and gulped her way through three shots soon enough.

Demelza, Jimmy and Erin started going head-to-head in attempts to out-drink each other. Having to shove aside a great deal of raw pain, Ginny managed to remember last year's Quidditch triumph for long enough to create a Patronus to send to Neville, asking him to collect her teammates in about an hour or so – sufficient time to allow for drunken numbness, without leaving them to their own devices for any dangerously long duration.

Then, consulting with Ritchie, she Stupefied Nicholas, since they'd have felt bad getting the thirteen year-old drunk enough to pass out. Lavender, who was quite close to the goal of passing out, was under Ritchie's charge, his arms not so worn out from Beating that he couldn't haul her up to the castle.

Ginny Enervated Nicholas, and the four proceeded back up to Gryffindor, Ritchie winding up carrying Lavender on his back as far as the castle door. Blaise and Draco were standing under a copse of trees watching forlornly, but they left her alone since she was with her team. From the Entrance Hall on, the only hassle was coaxing the smashed Keeper to pretend sobriety until they got to the dorm. Snape passed them in the hallway but somehow, by some small favor of providence on an otherwise desolate day, overlooked the puppet-like walk of Nicholas, and the shuffling and staggering as Ritchie supported Lav.

Once Ginny had turned over the second year to his mates, and seen Lav to bed, she slumped down to the Common Room to courteously thank Ritchie for his help. He passed the back of his hand over his eyes to rub away rainwater and weariness. "Help? Hell, Ginny, thank _you_. You've been an incredible Captain, not to mention immensely sweet and caring to everyone today. I've been such a better Beater, under you, you know?" Despite the miasma of misery in Gryffindor's tower, he managed a fond smile for her.

That proved the final straw to her raw nerves. When she had someone else to focus on, she felt well enough to manage… but with all her teammates disposed of well enough, and now _this_-

Ginny burst into tears, bawled something to the effect of "You're too kind," to Richie, and bolted like a wild deer out the portrait-hole, straight past Blaise and Draco, whose half-second hesitation earned them both an Impedimenta and kept them from following on her heels.

* * *

It did seem tradition for the Quidditch captain to attempt suicide by shower-drowning on losing the Championship. Ginny's fingers had long since pruned over – she was just surprised that her arms and legs hadn't wrinkled up yet. She'd started, in a bout of masochism, by setting the shower spout that occupied the corner of the Prefect's bathroom to ice water. She didn't actually possess the resolve to stay under the freezing spray, though, so she'd settled for completely neutral warm water, which was much more effective in losing all the thoughts of self-blame bouncing through her head. She had her eyes squeezed shut, so all she felt was the steady mist of the water, not even perceiving it as hot or cold once she'd finessed the temperature. She could float in this haze for a while, she thought… at least, till she sneezed explosively.

Yes, immersing herself in cold water after the windy game had been a terrible idea. On the other hand – she perked up as the thought occurred to her – if she had caught a cold, she could _really_ wallow in misery for the next week.

Then again, it would just linger and remind her of the match, of Xavier snagging the Snitch as Nicolas trailed a hopeless foot behind, of her, Erin, and Demelza's impotence against the Ravenclaw Chasers, of Lavender sobbing. Decisively, she turned the hot water up higher. After a moment's thought, she cranked the water pressure higher too, hoping the water would somehow drill the anguish out of her.

She really did feel better – this time, she hummed with her eyes closed, and felt even more adrift. The spray was hard enough to make her skin sting after a moment, though, so she turned back around so that the droplets beat down along her spine – aching from hunching over her broomstick – and drove into her scalp like a massage.

It felt like every single droplet was diving right through her hair to rub her head… it felt incredible. Why had she never put the shower on that setting before? The force of it drummed all the hatefulness of the day out of her mind… the insistent rubbing grew more soothing still – Ginny reached up to fan out her hair and better take advantage of the water pressure, but her hand encountered…

"AUGH!" she screamed when she touched someone else's hand. Her eyes sprang open to the sight of another hand, in her face, which quickly closed over her mouth. Light grey eyes danced gleefully at her. She stopped letting out muffled shrieks of horror and started trying to bite Draco's hand, instead.

"Fucking _wanker!_" she tried to say, though it came out unintelligible. Her intent to claw him to pieces for startling her was fairly clear, though. Unfortunately, her hands were quickly seized and held behind her back by the other stalker who'd followed her here.

Ginny had been schooled in fighting two boys at once since age three, though, and jabbed her heel into Blaise's knee.

"Oof, is that how you repay massages? I'll remember that, in the future." For a moment, her flash of guilt made her stop struggling, until she realized why Blaise was holding her still – Draco got down on his knees, and immediately began to suck at her, his finger finding its way inside automatically.

That made the anger return – they thought they could just tame her with a quick bit of fucking around? Ginny lashed around in Blaise's arms, trying to break free. Her wand was only a few feet away in the pile of her clothes – which, she saw, was where the boys had left theirs, as well. They must have snuck in – somehow – while she was attempting to lose herself.

Damn them, anyway. She tried to lodge her knees against Draco's shoulders to push him away, but that wasn't getting her anywhere – by now his body was slick with the water pouring over him, water that he ignored, just as he did her fighting, in his single-minded concentration on her pussy. She needed to get out of Blaise's grasp – she tried another kick backwards, higher, but he only dodged, then twined a foot around hers so she was off-balance. His grasp on her wrists only became tighter. "Just see if you can get out, get away from us," he jeered in her ear. Echoing his challenge, Draco nibbled her oh-so-lightly – an electric shock ran up through Ginny's body.

She realized what they meant by their presence there, then. "Bet I can," she retorted to both of them. "Bet I can escape before you even get me close…"

Blaise's nails dug in, scraping along the insides of her wrists. Ginny ignored that, bucking in another attempt to escape Draco's questing mouth. That failed, of course – he just lunged forward, hands seizing her arse to push her hips forwards so he could taste her again. "Silly, silly, silly," he hissed, the sibilants tingling where his lips were pressed to her flesh.

Not so silly, though, she realized – she'd failed at shaking Draco, but Blaise was now pressed flush against the wall. She pressed back against him, searching for the best angle to elbow his ribs… as she attacked, he let go of her hands, alright – and grabbed her underneath the shoulders instead, tugging down and _pulling_. She landed in a jumble with him on the floor.

Through it all, Draco stayed latched on to her, his mouth insistent. And now Blaise's cock was prodding her rump, and when she didn't shift to escape that, he ground between the swells of her arse, against the tight ring of muscle. While Ginny didn't object in the slightest to the things the boys were doing to her, she tried to disentangle herself from them anyways, and not merely for form's sake – the spirit of the afternoon (she supposed it was evening by now, actually) seemed to encourage this rougher, more forceful coupling.

The balance of power shifted dramatically though when Blaise seized her flailing legs from behind, spreading her thighs to make Draco's job easier. He finished her quickly then, though not without earning a backful of fingernail scratches in the process.

As her climax swept over her, then receded, the haze of powerlessness and failure that made her fight them drained away, no longer pooling in her chest where it weighed down her lungs and made her every breath rasp harshly. She lay limply as Draco rinsed his face, adjusting the spray of the shower to a gentler mist, and Blaise rearranged her limbs snugly within the embrace of his own. The three of them slumped together against the wall and let the water trickle down them, puddling in laps, belly-buttons, and other crooks and crevices of their bodies.

"So… how did we get in?" Blaise prompted her.

"Right – yeah, how'd you manage that?" she repeated fuzzily, only bothering because it was clear he wanted to share it with her. "Thought they didn't give Inquisitorial Squad members the password for other Houses' bathrooms."

Draco and Blaise smirked, chuckling at her. "We knew you wouldn't be able to resist spying on us," Draco gloated.

_Now_ she was paying attention: "Wait… wait a second!" She thought back to the original incident she'd based that assumption on – overhearing Blaise and Draco's conversation when they were stalking her, only a week after their very first date, when they'd walked by lamenting their lack of ability to find her, just happening to have that conversation outside this very bathroom…

…That same conversation that had driven her to use this bathroom exclusively, thinking she was safe from them here…

She scrambled upright. "Wait just a minute! The Inquisitorial Squad has had the password all along?!" Chills shot up her spine at the horror of Goyle or Theo having free access to this room.

Blaise tugged her by a handful of wet hair, none too gently, so she sat back down with a thump. "Of course not, goose. We'd never lie to you, not even when you're eavesdropping on us. The IS doesn't have the password, just the Head Boy. Well, and the Head Boy's boyfriend."

"Oh _really_," she said scornfully, able to think off-hand of a dozen times they'd lied to her for the sake of charming or seducing her, or just being funny. "And what, pray tell, was the purpose of making me feel comfortable here and nowhere else? Or are you going to tell me Blaise had a vision in Divination one day in autumn and realized he would need to be able to surprise me today after Gryffindor lost the Quidditch Cup?"

Blaise perked up. "Sure! I'm that good at Divination, easily." Draco unsuccessfully tried to muffle his laughter at that.

Ginny set on him, then, as the weak link, and locked chocolate-tinted eyes on his stormy grey ones. "Draco… c'mon, you have to have done _something_ with that knowledge before today… _do_ be so kind as to tell me what it is, fair Malfoy?" she cajoled him with cutting courtesy.

He wriggled under her sharp look. "Erm. You know…"

"I _do_ know," she cooed. "But you can _tell_ me, out _loud_... you know you want to…" Blaise watched Ginny work his boyfriend over with all the fascinated enjoyment of someone watching an Egyptian snake-charming sorcerer.

Her fingers fluttered along his chest, up to his neck, stroking his pulse-point. "Well…" his eyes fluttered like her fingertips, half-lidded. "Well, we might have… needed a glimpse of your divine form… just to keep us going, you know."

"Sure, sure," she murmured. "It's been such a rough year on us all… so tell me, Dray, did you come watch me while I was changing?" With a silly, sheepish half-grin stealing across his face, he nodded. "While I was in the bath?" Another nod. "How often?"

"Not all the time… only as a treat. When we hadn't seen you in too long. To keep us going, like I said."

As a reward for that, her fingers swept down his breastbone, down his stomach, briefly grazing the tangle of tight curls below before returning to his neck. Already hard, his body tensed and tightened further at that.

"Did you ever see anything… interesting?"

"Interesting?" Draco repeated, his tone innocent enough that she was confident he hadn't seen any such thing.

"Interesting?" Blaise echoed – "There were _interesting_ things to be seen, and we missed them?!" Ginny blushed and laughed at the two prats. Then she squirmed out from between them, and settled astride Draco.

_Now_ his eyes were sprung wide open, the trance broken. "I think," Ginny informed him, legs parting to brace her knees on either side of his hips, "That you owe me some sort of repayment for your little voyeuristic adventures."

Draco was now enraptured in a different way, but this time Blaise wasn't going to stand by and watch things transpire between Ginny and Draco.

"Ah, ah, ah," Blaise said, one hand intervening to tug Ginny's shoulder and pull her off his boyfriend, the other hand going between their bodies for caution's sake.

"Hey!" Ginny whined, at which Draco snapped back to reality and writhed out from under her.

Prize denied, Ginny couldn't help it – as the boys sat firmly on either side of her, arms around her in both restraint and comfort, she burst into noisy tears.

"We couldn't, not today of all days, love," Draco told her, cutting in to her whimpering.

Now she was just pissed, not sad. "Can't, huh? Should I have realized sooner that you would _always_ have an excuse?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, not that she could see it when she was still, embarrassed, dashing tears from her eyes. "Case in point. You're going through enough of an emotional trial right now, Gin. A game like that…" he sucked in breath through his teeth.

Ginny immediately tried to smother her tears, partly because she was reassured that they had a legitimate reason to deny her _again_, partly hoping that if she proved she could rein her emotions in, they might change their minds.

Draco winced at Blaise's comment about the game, but when he saw that the subject of Quiddich could be referenced without inciting a Ginny-tempest, tried a lame joke. "A game like that is like… premature ejaculation. It hurts to see that happen to anyone you care about."

Ginny was still suspicious of Draco's presence here. Being honest with herself, she didn't think that she'd have been nearly so helpful to _him_ if it was Slytherin's team that had been so resoundingly whipped. "You've told me your feelings towards Quidditch," (which had been surprisingly arousing, when he started in on a passionate speech about the sport being poetry in motion – Ginny had given him quite a long blowjob afterwards,) "Are you really that broken up that it's Gryffindor that lost, though?" she asked dubiously.

He directed a fond smile at Blaise. "It's cute, how they never quite understand Slytherin sensibilities no matter how hard they try, isn't it?"

"I've always adored that about my non- Slytherin lovers," Blaise agreed, to be cut off by an aggrieved Ginny –

"But that's just it – rule number one of Slytherin sensibilities is Slytherin _loyalty!_" she protested.

"No, I'd definitely put that at number two," Blaise told her. "Number one is pure, utter selfishness. And so if a Slytherin cares about a person, that person is part of their selfishness… they supersede any other loyalties."

"So if Gryffindor loses, and that makes someone close to my heart sad…" Draco finished with a matter-of-fact shrug, as if to signal an unalterable fate.

At that, Ginny utterly melted against the two.

* * *

_A.N. - So, yeah. I think I can be forgiven the delay because this chapter is twice the normal length, and I can be forgiven the enormous amount of obstacles they're facing in their noble pursuit of sex_, _because I've gotten the final two chapters almost written, in other words, you'll see them soon. If, you know, you want them. If not I can just sit on them a while longer... ;-)_


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty One**

_From the Order of the Phoenix's emergency plan for the Weasley family:_

_Arthur: rescue from Ministry.  
Molly: safe, resides at Headquarters.  
Bill and Fleur: at Shell Cottage – alert so they can ward their home.  
Charlie: either at Headquarters or dragon reserve – if in Romania, contact Ski Blustag.  
Fred and George: shop in Diagon – if possible, rescue along with Arthur, otherwise contact Lee.  
Ron: who knows? try to send owl?  
Ginny: extract from Hogwarts, immediately, via Minerva or Pomona._

_From Status Report to Kingsley on first day of Easter holiday:_

_Arthur: was the one to hear the news first, is safe at HQ.  
Molly: at Muriel's, under a heavy Calming Potion, watched by a Healer.  
Bill and Fleur: reported that their wards are up, haven't heard from them since.  
Charlie: safe at HQ.  
Fred and George: safe at HQ.  
Ron: verified captured, now in hands of Death Eaters. Our hopes and prayers are with him.  
Ginny: Minerva's working on finding her…!_

* * *

Finally, the boys weren't under Carrow-surveillance. Finally, they were all having a good week, the depression of the Gryffindor loss forgotten – classes were winding down in anticipation of spring break – and finally they were all… in a state more conducive to being free with each other's bodies. Or as Blaise, blunt as ever, put it to Ginny: "You're not on the rag for another week and a half now, am I right?"

Ginny had swatted him on the backside, but also said in a low tone, "Yeah, no worries." There was only a single factor tripping them up now, and that was the question of 'where.' Ginny, frankly, saw nothing wrong with her workshop, and neither had Blaise, originally, but all of the sudden Draco, perhaps inured to waiting by this point, was kicking up a fuss, and his idea of finding somewhere more 'appropriate' had now infected Blaise as well.

Ginny was steaming mad at both of them for several hours, thinking they were both being quite unreasonable – what about the Room of Requirement? It was literally impossible for the Room to not be 'appropriate' to their desires. Blaise had sneered, protesting that he didn't want Gryffindor cooties getting on him while he was fucking, and then just to make a mockery of his own hypocrisy, licked her cheek sloppily. Only later did Draco, ruefully, explain to her that Blaise was trying to protect him from bad memories, at which Ginny grimaced and dropped the issue.

She was still mad, though, until Blaise had himself some kind of brainstorm that left him bouncing off the walls with delirious glee. With a great deal of cuddling, he relaxed her, and promised up and down to ensure her deflowering before spring break, even if he had to go to the ends of the earth to make it happen.

* * *

As it turned out, that was a reasonable enough description of what he'd conceived of doing. Pulling a Potter, he apparently struck out through the castle in the middle of the night looking for a Floo to use.

The catch was, he had free reign of the castle, and so didn't face the perils Potter would have – but because he was Head Boy, he faced another set of complications… it took four consecutive nights of skulking about before his luck was finally good enough to avoid running into anyone. The first night, it had been Snape, who had struck up a very curious hour-long conversation with him, then shepherded him back to Slytherin. Another night it was Filch, who had been searching out a Carrow, but latched on Blaise to lend a hand with a spell for a broken pipe. Peeves and a wandering first-year rounded out the obstacles of the week. _Finally_, with barely two days left, he managed it, and explained himself fully to Ginny and Draco the next day in her workroom.

At the culmination of a series of mishaps, which gave Ginny and Draco panic attacks to hear described even though Blaise was clearly safe and sound before them, he'd found that he'd broken into McGonagall's office on accident, on which he shrugged and Flooed home as he'd planned anyway.

Ginny was wholly unimpressed when he showed off the result of his quest, a glinting onyx ring. Draco, though, immediately asked a number of technical questions. Only then did Ginny take note of the similar ring on his right pinkie, which she'd generally written off as an affection of his, the same as his innumerable monogrammed handkerchiefs (which typically were put to very undignified service in post-canoodling clean-up.) Finally Draco seemed to have exhausted his stream of incomprehensible queries, and offered very hearty congratulations for his boyfriend's cleverness.

"Alright, so, with twenty-four hours to go, and your ring fetched, can we get this started, already?" Ginny asked, irate and a touch scornful. She'd been tormented all week by dreams that picked up where she and Draco and Blaise, in real life, always left off…

"I don't know, Draco… do you think she wants it badly enough?" Blaise stage-whispered in an aside, at which Ginny flew at him in a fury and pinned him to the couch in a way that was more suggestive than threatening.

Draco, rolling his eyes, dove in and sorted the prats out, dragging them apart. "We need to make sure _they_'ll not notice you using it, I believe, correct?"

Ginny swallowed at the clear reference to the Carrows, but Blaise only huffed. "Yes, alright." The process of 'making sure' somehow involved Draco and Ginny hiding in a broom closet while Blaise strode the hallway outside, checking that the coast was clear. When it was, he whispered to his closeted lovers, "Assuming they don't track me and follow me – which I can talk my way out of well enough – I'm going to be there a while preparing things, alright? So just wait till it's clear I was undetected, and then you can pop on out of there. Or," he grinned, noting how Ginny leaned into Draco and how Draco's hands were slipping further and further around her waist, "you can stay in the closet. It's no difference to me."

His final directions and snarkiness delivered, he spun on his heel – and shrank away into nothingness, without even a crack of noise.

"Ack!" was Ginny's unintelligent, high-pitched response to this surprise.

"Hush," Draco told her absently, looking at his watch and apparently counting. After about a minute and a half, he sighed, telling her in a relieved tone, "If there were an alarm going off, they'd have gotten here by now." In imitation of his vanished boyfriend, he threaded his fingers idly through a few strands of Ginny's hair.

"You're still watching your watch," she pointed out.

"In case they noticed and aren't worried… they'll still come check it out, just not immediately. We'll give them ten minutes."

Seriously, she told him, "I'd be far too concerned for Blaise to give up the watch after ten minutes… we better give it at least thirty."

He cocked a golden eyebrow, and smirked. "Alright, fine… but you'd best sit good and still on my lap, here, and be very, very quiet," he informed her, tugging her into his lap, his fingers immediately fanning up her skirt and across her thighs, starting to tease, worm their way higher and deeper, until it was very hard indeed for Ginny to keep from wriggling or making noise.

The Carrows never came; the same could not be said about the two keeping guard.

* * *

By the time Blaise had returned, hours later, Draco had been summoned home by owl. His parents wanted an accounting of what he'd been up to over the semester, as he'd spent a great deal more money that year than usual. Ginny thought back to the carriage ride, the constant bribes of expensive chocolates, the dinner at Kama Sutra, and gulped, but he gave her a very calm, dignified kiss and told her to be good, he'd be right back. Then he'd hissed in her ear to look after Blaise, to do, to say, anything, to keep him calm.

So she'd returned to the closet and done problem-sets by wandlight until their buoyant boy had returned. It hurt to pop his ebullience immediately, and she saw both in his crestfallen slump, and the sparkle of irritation and indignation on Draco's behalf, why he needed looking after. She stole off to her Quidditch locker during dinner to procure the bottle of champagne that Gryffindor's Quidditch team had never had the opportunity to drink.

With that, she managed to pacify him until much later that night, when Draco still wasn't back, and Blaise broke into her bedroom, asking if she knew where he was. They knew the probable answer, but 'he's at home' wasn't any reassurance to either of them. They crept out of Gryffindor and down to the workroom and talked for hours. The culmination of these talks, as Blaise grew increasingly hysterical, entailed Ginny telling him all the ways in which she knew Draco loved him. When he was still only barely restraining himself from bolting for the nearest Floo, she was struck by inspiration.

"You know, he would do anything for you," she told him.

"Probably true," he muttered without moving his gaze from where it was fixated on the door.

"Definitely true," she insisted. "In fact…" she grinned, lacing her arms around his chest to tug him sideways, to lean against her, and feeling a flutter of pride and love when he finally looked her in the eyes, listening, and melted a few degrees now that he was in her lap, "I know it's true, because he gave me permission to make you a very, very special offer… a nice surprise for you."

"What's that?" Blaise asked, and although his eyes weren't dancing at the word 'surprise' as usual, he'd lost the dead, desolate note in his voice.

"Since he had to scarper, he lost his place at the, erm, front of the line, if you want to look at it that way. He's giving that place to you. Erm, that is, the place in line for my virginity."

Now his face was slack with incredulity. "He is? He said that?"

She nodded, making a mental note to be sure to find Draco before Blaise did in the morning, to let him know how she'd rearranged the terms. Well, he had said "whatever it took" to calm Blaise. When his cerulean eyes sparkled with delight at 'Draco's' display of affection, Ginny knew Draco would approve, and all the more so when, about half an hour later, they fell asleep finally, in each other's arms, piled under blankets.

The next morning was the final day before spring break; the train left immediately after dinner. Blaise was supposed to be supervising the arrangement of the carriages and the assignments for the house-elves over the break. Ginny was supposed to be in class, and if not there, then belatedly packing for home. Draco, as far as his parents knew, was in his room dressing for a formal afternoon luncheon.

But instead, with fluttering stomachs, broad, excited grins, and a nervous, lustful energy in the air, they were gathered around Blaise, hand-in-hand-in-hand, in very back of the Library.

"Wait!" Gin yelped suddenly.

Both boys gave her dirty looks. "What nowwww?" whined Draco childishly.

"Rubbers. We didn't need rubbers when we were staying _in_ the castle for this, but-"

"- I told you," Blaise cut her off, "I wanted to take care of a few things while I was there, and it wasn't all plumping pillows. I took care of it. A quick nip to the Restricted Section, and I hunted up the same charm that the whole castle's covered by."

Before she could get another word in edgewise – though all she wanted to do was congratulate him on his foresight – Blaise gave the thick dark ring on his right hand a short, hard twist, and the boys' hands collapsed to smoke in hers – Ginny, too, felt that she'd become entirely ethereal, almost better than when she was flying, except for the utter loss of control.

A moment later, they were solid again, if windswept and winded, in an incredibly sumptuous room. Draco broke out beaming. "My bedroom," Blaise announced, as if it needed introduction – the bed itself, the size of Ginny's own room at the Burrow, was kind of a giveaway.

They almost succumbed to shyness, then, the two bawdy boys who'd been telling her all year they wanted to shag her, so Ginny, her hands still in theirs, tugged them over to the bed. Once they saw her sit primly on the duvet, long freckled legs crossed elegantly and skirt riding up, the lust that had plagued them for so long returned in a crushing wave.

* * *

Two minutes later, Ginevra Weasley found herself stripped, sitting in the naked lap of her soon-to-be deflowerer, his strong forearms urgently holding her against him while his long fingernails traced patterns on her belly. Her heart was pounding so hard that she felt as though her ears were probably pulsing in time to it, and Draco and Blaise's hands roamed hungrily across her skin. Blaise nibbled her shoulder at the same time Draco lapped a nipple, and Ginny wriggled with pleasure at the spark of bliss that went surging through her – followed by another spark as her wriggle brought her and Blaise into a deeply intimate contact. His strong arms around her urged her to do it again, and shortly Ginny established a mind-blowing rhythm grinding against him.

When she was writhing and moaning wantonly in his arms, Blaise caught Draco's eye, prompting a wide, excited grin from his boyfriend. Suddenly, muscular thighs pressed up between hers, pushing her legs apart, and hands were on her hips, shifting her weight slightly forward, and in the kind of swift but exquisitely clear movement that Ginny would replay for years later in her head, Blaise slid down along her slit and stabbed up, into her.

The pain was anything but insignificant, but then Draco was immediately at work to counter it – shifting down between her spread legs, he bent his head to her lips, repeating his exotic, sinfully good performance of Valentine's Day, but this time, the achy longing inside her was filled, and then some, by Blaise and his smooth, even thrusts. Ginny was completely overwhelmed to be the focus of their very pointed concentration, to have so much intention directed simply at pleasuring her.

Soon enough she lost even the ability to contemplate that, as the sure strokes of Blaise inside her and Draco's tongue lovingly bathing her (and Blaise, on the off-strokes,) swept her completely away. Conscious thought only returned when, in a tremendous sequence, the boys' attention took her over the edge, and she came to, hazily, Blaise curling her tight in his arms, and Draco curled over her leg to rest his head on her stomach. Her muscles were still shivering from their new and powerful exercise.

She tried to speak and realized her throat was raw, realized too that she'd been screaming her head off a moment ago. "That – was incredible…" she croaked, still trembling and shuddering between the two boys. Blaise slid out from under her to settle beside her, holding her possessively against his chest.

But she reached out for Draco – "His turn," she said, meaning only that she wanted him to hold her, but he arched an eyebrow, and she realized how it had sounded – realized as well that the idea was indeed a good one. He took Blaise's spot reclining on the pile of pillows against the headboard. Ginny very, very gingerly crawled up his body to rest her hips against his – he was rock hard, and she was still primed from Blaise – he was inside her instantly, drawing a loud immediate moan from her that was half-lust, half-pain.

Draco knew exactly how to move, though, to keep from paining her more – he rocked slowly, gently up against her, deep, but not forcefully. Ginny leaned forwards to capture his lips in hers, gasping against his mouth as he slid a finger between them, to rub her slick skin right above her entrance. She nearly purred with joy at the doubled sensation, and then Blaise crouched behind her to start sucking and nipping at her neck and shoulder again, and thinking back on it later, she was pretty sure she did purr, then.

Neither boy commented on it, only focusing on arousing every last shred of bliss from her body and making her putty in their hands. Blaise, still hard and unsatisfied, pressed against her lower back, hands running up and down her sides and around front to toy with her nipples, mouth still roaming along the sensitive skin of her shoulder.

Then he shifted, moved forwards, and before Ginny could react, he was inside her too – always finding virgin territory, Blaise was – nestled up within her, only the thinnest wall between his cock and Draco's. Defensively, Ginny's body tightened in reaction, but he was already fully inside her, and her constriction around him only made him groan in her ear.

He must have prepared with lube, as Draco was lulling and relaxing her body – the shock was evaporating now, leaving Ginny's body anything but relaxed. Breath came fast and hard to her now – she could hardly bear the fullness of it, but she needed it, needed to relish it –she bucked between them, and was rewarded with grunts from both boys. Ginny was wedged so solidly between their bodies, and the sense of _fullness_ and completion from Blaise's lovemaking was not just doubled but tripled, quadrupled…

"I can feel you," she heard Draco rasp in Blaise's ear, and Ginny could feel them both, could feel them feeling each other… their hands weren't roaming her feverish skin anymore, but occupied balancing all three of their bodies, and Ginny could hardly mind, because she was already completely overwhelmed by two mouths panting fast breaths against her neck, two hips cradling either side of hers, two muscular torsos which where driving against and inside her too fast to even understand the ways in which the boys were making her moan. The only thing she _could_ pick out was when Draco shrieked, "Oh, _fuck_," in her ear. Then on the heels of that uncharacteristic vulgarity, he and Blaise were both stabbing deep up inside her, not that she could discern much about either of them, because as Draco was gushing within her and Blaise was squeezing her arse tightly, about to reach his own peak, she climaxed again, and was lost to all sensation until the aches between her legs started asserting themselves.

Ginny was groggy and sore, and so she let Draco and Blaise rearrange her as they liked between them till they were clean, dry, and warm beneath the covers, and completely entwined. The throbbing from her nether-parts started to assert itself in a more serious way then, but before she could curl up in a tight ball around herself, like she wanted, Blaise intervened to prevent her ruining their love-nest. ""Obscurisensi," she thought it was, but whatever the incantation, it worked to numb the throb.

That accomplished, she went back to playing dead, lying limply between the boys and basking in their petting, kissing, and constantly murmured compliments and praise.

It was maybe fifteen minutes later, though the whole thing had a timeless quality to it, that Draco was telling her, "You're incredible, Fota, the most sensual… and let's not forget, the most tolerant and open-minded, to ever even consider us,"

To which Blaise of course interjected, "Wait, open-minded to consider a pair of rascals like us, or open-minded to consider doing rascals that come in pairs?"

Draco rolled his eyes: "I was _going_ for sexually, you dolt, since –" He abruptly cut himself off, rolling away in the opposite direction, shaking off the shared embrace.

"Dray?" both his lovers immediately asked. "What's wrong?"

As he fought free of the duvet and sheets, and staggered upright, striding across the room to his pants, Blaise could spot the problem immediately, though he hated to believe it – Draco was clutching his right-hand pinky finger.

As he shuffled about trying to stuff two feet into one pants' hole, Blaise lodged a hand over Ginny's mouth and hissed into her ear a brief explanation: "Those rings are connections to the estate – well, you already figured that out – well, they can be used to summon errant heirs. This means his parents very seriously want to find him – they've probably already searched the whole Manor for him."

Ginny's stomach flipped over and sank, her whole body feeling cold even though she was still sweaty from before.

"Do you think it's about –" she tried to ask, but before she could say 'us,' Draco, having managed to dress himself properly, strode back across the room. White-faced and wide-eyed, he grabbed Blaise and kissed him deeply, then seized Ginny for her kiss. As he backed away to a clear space, he tossed off to them, "Love you. Stay there," and vanished the same way Blaise had, disappearing in silence.

Blaise's instinctive reaction was to tuck Ginny close, entwining their naked bodies more closely and more desperately than before. Because she did crave him holding her – just as deeply as she craved Draco back, and holding her, she went along with it for about five minutes. However, soon, her grim experience with war-matters was pricking her to action.

"Ginny!" Blaise gasped pathetically when she tried to slip out of his grip. "Don't…"

"I'm not going to up and vanish, Blaise," she promised, her heart breaking at the expression on his face. "We need to get up though. If something's the matter, we've got to be dressed and ready when Draco gets back."

Her admonition proved true, only moments after Ginny had fondly straightened Blaise's collar and been tugged into his lap, where they'd both huddled, paralyzed by fear.

"Dray!" Blaise exulted, nearly toppling Ginny to the floor as he sprang up to meet his prodigal boyfriend.

Draco grabbed the hand Blaise had flung up in welcome, giving it a quick squeeze, but his face was stricken. "Get her back. Get her back to school absolutely immediately. Take her straight to McGonagall, and don't let any other professor or student take her, stop her, talk to her, even see her, if you can help it. Get her far, far gone from here – from me – right now. And… Gin…" he gulped, dry-eyed but devastated, "I'm sorry. Believe this of me – I am so, so sorry."

Ginny was gaping, horror-stricken. Draco was looking as blasted and ravaged by whatever had just happened as he had when Blaise cornered him in the bathroom long ago, at the Ministry, until his glamours wore off and revealed the toll of the summer on him. Blaise sucked down the still, heavy air of the bedroom, but the smell of lingering sex was hardly helpful. "I – Draco – you're not… going back, are you?"

"The sooner the better," Draco said in a dead tone. "There's _Him_ to deal with," and he practically spat the euphemism.

With a cry of shock, Ginny's knees gave out, and Blaise caught her automatically, but he was still searching Draco's face. There was nothing there to welcome Blaise. Draco fully, one-hundred percent, did not want him to stay, did not want to be detained, to be rescued like he had when Blaise hustled him off to the Canary Islands last July.

Blaise stepped back from the abyss in Draco's expression, and in the most difficult movement he'd ever made, twisted his ring to take Ginny and himself back to Hogwarts.

* * *

A third year Slytherin rounded the corner as Blaise and Ginny appeared, staggering, and rebounded off a shelf. She yelped. Blaise swore at her, then, more practically, hauled out his wand and cursed her. She was frozen. "Petrified?" Ginny criticized. "Won't help us for long."

"Nothing will help us in the long-term – so we need to get you to your Head in as short a time as possible. Where'll she be right now?" Blaise's temples throbbed with the blood pounding in his ears, feeling dizzy with adrenaline and responsibility.

"Her office, probably – we've only got three floors to cross, then…" Ginny said in a forlornly hopeful way meant to boost their spirits.

It didn't. Not with Draco's eyes haunting them both.

It took ten minutes hiding in a secret passage, and three Stupefications. But Blaise hauled her through McGonagall's doorway just as Filch's cackling sounded from around the corner.

McGonagall's eyes and mouth were perfect circles of shock. "Mr. Zabini?" she asked in a faint, quizzical tone, not seeming to believe Ginny was there, safe and sound, until Blaise tugged his prize around him. "Miss Weasley…" The old woman's eyes, Blaise was alarmed to see, were misting up.

Draco's attitude had imparted a great deal of seriousness to Blaise that afternoon. He knew that he couldn't relent until he'd seen the back of Ginny, as she vanished through the Floo. "I delivered her here as ordered, Professor," he said pointedly, knowing very little was said in classrooms and offices that didn't make it to the Carrows' ears.

Professor McGonagall hadn't earned her title as a formidable foe of the Dark Lord for nothing. She blinked a moment before saying in put-upon, querulous tone, "My goodness… truly? I only put out the order to bring Miss Weasley to my office a moment ago. Her poor brother – Arthur said his spattergoit had taken a turn for the worse. At any rate, they can't be picking her up at the station in London," she prattled on.

"Oh! Is that what that's about?" Blaise said, his own sage, knowing tone just as much a show as McGonagall's display of dottering old age. "All I knew was the administration put out a call to fetch her, and I found her just down the hallway so I dragged her straight here. Professor Carrow seemed very concerned that she be found immediately," he added earnestly.

"Well, you did quite well, Mr. Zabini," she said, patting his cheek. The firm press of her hand, and the glint of fear in her gray eyes, told him she knew they'd both have to dance through fire to get out of trouble for their supposed innocent mix-up. Meanwhile, his precious, fair love was braced in front of the fire-place.

As McGonagall fetched the Floo Powder, Blaise's eyes raked her figure longingly. She was trembling – he suspected she had picked up something grave indeed from all that talk about spattergoit. They restrained themselves to a silent hug, which McGonagall mercifully ignored, fiddling with the lid. She extended the open container to Ginny, who threw it into the fire, choking out the address of some cottage.

The flames guttered, then grew back up – no green cast to them, they were a perfectly mundane yellow. Ginny's face wrenched at that, but she tried again with another pinch, and gasped out a name which Blaise carefully paid no attention to. This time the flames turned green promptly. Blaise may have let out a ragged, feminine cry, a sound of pure relief. Ginny nearly dove through – and was gone.

"Well." McGonagall looked down at her desk, straightening a quill. "I need to prepare myself for… any visitors who might utilize my office hours. And you… should probably report to… whoever sent you out on your task."

Blaise favored her with a lopsided grin, his most charming. "I'll do that." His ring would take him back to wait for Draco. He'd probably make things worse on himself by not being around to explain his 'mistake' in handing off the Weasley to the wrong faction that was looking for her. Well, his Fairest had handled the worst the Carrows could dish out, and likely was handling worse, now. So he could, too.

He'd still rather try and charm or bribe his way out, though.

* * *

Blaise was pondering the possibility that his pacing would wear a track into his favorite wolf's-skin fur rugs – if ever it was possible, it was going to happen this afternoon – when Draco returned.

His cry of relief was more masculine this time, he hoped, but still incoherent. He tried to pounce on Draco for a kiss, but Draco jinxed him in midair, freezing him, and immediately pelting him with a desperate: "She's gone? She's safe? You saw her out of Hogwarts?"

Blaise replied with a hoarse "Yes," but even then Draco wouldn't close the distance between there lips to reassure him that things would be alright. Only the longing expression in his foggy grey eyes, saying Draco _wanted_ to kiss him, kept Blaise from cursing at him.

Draco read what he wanted quite easily. "Can't, Blaise. It's one of _us_ who's kissed _her_ last, and our only hope to keep Theo under control when they find out she's gone is… to try and transfer the spell."

"Wait – what?" Blaise spluttered. But even as he was objecting, it fell together in his mind – the 'Sealed With a Kiss' spell, without which Theo would have full access to the memories of Ginny's hours and hours 'shagging' him. Even if he was far too lecherous to see the obvious ploy at work, the second he volunteered that information to the Carrows – and he would, since it was a tidbit of the type they'd love – they would put two and two together and get five. Given all that their Fairest had sacrificed for the little first-years, Blaise and Draco could hardly let them face enraged Death Eaters who had freshly lost one object of their hate, and just discovered another.

"You kissed her last," Blaise said slowly. "She and I only hugged." That hurt to realize.

Draco's sharp, pointed face looked him over as sympathetically as he could manage. "It's on me, then. Take us back," he indicated Blaise's ring, which was properly set up between the bedroom and Hogwarts, whereas his own, in emergency mode, would only take him between the bedroom and the Manor, "and meet me back in her workroom, ok?"

Blaise was already twisting the ring with the hand not holding Draco's, and when they reappeared in Hogwarts, in the same musty spot in the Library, Draco bolted before Blaise could ask, 'why Ginny's workroom?' He figured it out on the way, though, and just in time. He had sufficient time for two passes of her worktable, shrinking everything and shoving it in his pockets, before the door burst open behind him.

"Ah, Zabini. Thought you were assigned to report to Snape, like, pronto," sneered Rosier-Hallaway. The prick had always been jealous of Blaise, for who knew what reason – because Blaise was older, was Head, was dating the most scrumptious blonde in the school…

"Guess some wires got crossed, since they're so worked up about the stupid bint," Blaise said easily. "I'll go do that then… and find some way to get back at Filch later for directing _me_ to search the bloodtraitor's hovel. I'll leave you to it, mate!"

He cursed himself for how hearty and phony that last bit had sounded. He'd have to do better with the Death Eaters.

* * *

Blaise had still been somewhat careless in dissembling to Snape and the Carrows, but Snape only listened with half-lidded, glittering eyes, called him a moron seven ways from Sunday for bringing Weasley to McGonagall instead of someone more 'alert' and 'capable,' and quite literally threw Blaise out of his office by the collar of his robes.

All to the better – he could do a quick sweep of the hallways, issuing imperfect Memory-Charms to the people he'd Stunned along the route to McGonagall's office with Ginny, and un-Petrifying that third-year in the library, before scampering back to Ginny's old workroom and strolling right in through the portrait, which was left ajar. Sure enough, Rosier-Hallaway had trashed it, smashing what Blaise hadn't been able to rescue. Blaise tried not to let it bother him.

There was no manning-up and ignoring the pangs of fright and misery once Draco appeared, though. Cautiously, Blaise encircled his boyfriend in his arms, and when Draco didn't avert his face, assumed that the necessary deed had been done, and finally, finally, got a kiss. Then, the poor, confused, but eminently patient Head Boy got the story of the afternoon, at last.

Draco collapsed back against the futon, leaving Blaise to hover over him, a brooding mother hen, as his boyfriend related what had happened after going to Malfoy Manor, explaining in a strangled voice how he'd come to report to his parents and encountered a tableau of a poorly-disguised Potter, a Granger, and one Ronald Weasley. How he'd been asked to identify them – how he'd, heart hammering in his mouth, lied outright, with almost too much confidence, so that Bellatrix had, suspicious, Flooed the Dark Lord's chambers, asking him to come when he had a chance, to identify the Potter brat more certainly.

Draco had bolted the instant that pronouncement was made, knowing that even if his insane aunt didn't think to have Snape summon the only readily available Weasley to identify her brother – and he'd not doubted for a moment that those eyes were brothers to the eyes that had watched him disappear fifteen minutes previous from Blaise's bedroom – that when the trio of Gryffindors _was_ positively identified, they would seize every relative they could get, and with Potter's dead and the Muggle-born's fled, Ginny was in the gravest danger.

He'd returned to the house just in time to witness the devastation that ensued in the flight of the three from the basement where they'd been detained. Hermione, poised as always, had deflected a knife as they vanished via house-elf magic… his aunt was dead, impaled on her own favorite throwing weapon. The scene was chaos. His mother literally bound him and dragged him into the attic, ordering him back to school immediately and making him swear not to return till that night, she was that frightened for his life.

After that, finding Theo, subduing him, and planting a kiss on him was comically non-frightening, as was blowing off Alecto Carrow's questions about where he'd been and why he hadn't helped search for Weasley: "I was helping Bellatrix on a consultation," he told her curtly, and left the professor somewhat awe-struck. Let someone else fill her in on the backstory, and on Bellatrix's death. Meanwhile, he and Blaise would quietly mourn that their girl had gone, and only bitterly rejoice that the crazy Bella Black wasn't out there to do anything to her. She was entirely in her family's hands now, they supposed.

It wasn't nearly as good as having her be in theirs.

* * *

_A.N. - Not sure whether you all will love me, or hate me. This got much more serious than I'd thought it would, if it's any consolation. I made finishing this story more difficult for myself by a great deal! Fortunately I'm putting the free time I have right now to working out the final part, rather than doing homework. I'm sure you're all quite pleased to hear that. My professors won't be... :D_


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty Two**

"_Mischief Accomplished," the diary of Hermione Granger, 1/5/98:_

_- Impersonated a goblin  
- Broke into Gringotts  
- Stole from a high-security vault  
- Escaped on a dragon  
- Reported as a thief to You-Know-Who  
- Nearly captured by Death Eaters in Hogsmeade._

_In short, one of the single busiest days since escaping Malfoy Manor, and it's not yet over by a long shot...  
_

* * *

Blaise and Draco slumped into place along the benches in the Great Hall, picking at their food as usual. Acting-Head Boy Theo Nott watched Draco sourly. He still hadn't figured out why the much more attractive boy had jumped him, kissed him soundly, and then gone back to his boyfriend and not looked at Theo since, even though said boyfriend was presently suspended from Head Boy duties – at least, until the Inquisitorial Squad meeting tonight, where he would be re-instated. Theo wasn't interested in Draco – or boys in general, for that matter – but he simply didn't understand why a Slytherin and practically-Death Eater would ever _not_ pursue power.

* * *

Blaise kept up a constant reassuring pressure on the small of Draco's back, rubbing a thumb up and down his spine. From the High Table, Minerva watched them with a hooded expression. She knew, from overhearing a conversation between Severus and a very proud Amycus, that the Malfoy boy had demonstrated a sudden interest in his parents' politics, traveling back to the Manor to consult with them several times a week since returning from spring break.

And Zabini – she'd thought so highly of him, as a noble Slytherin prepared to go against his House to save one of her most precious Gryffindors – and now he was back with Malfoy again. She just didn't understand it. Especially as he'd danced a fine dance before the Carrows all month, convincing them of his complete innocence and only losing Head privileges for the month of April, as punishment for 'rampant stupidity…'

Finally, Minerva realized she'd stared in the direction of Slytherin too long, and resumed gulping down her mashed potatoes. She needed to get to Headquarters tonight, to find out what on earth anyone had been able to discover about Ronald, Hermione, and Harry's whereabouts since apparently escaping the Death Eaters, weeks ago.

* * *

Dessert appeared – chocolate. Both boys perked up. Somehow, lately, both Draco and Blaise's sweet tooth had picked up considerably, and their addiction to anything chocolate was growing. From the head table, Severus gloated to himself, though he covered it by glowering around the room. He'd noticed their curious affection for the treat and hoped that by supplying it, he could keep them placated. He was quite grateful that they'd expedited Weasley's escape, and overwhelmingly grateful that they had been quiescent so far. Malfoy's constant popping home was proving annoying, for certain, but then he'd rendezvoused with Longbottom, and hadn't in gone home in the two weeks since – a cause for hope, as far as Severus was concerned, right up there with being in Scotland and therefore in no way responsible for the deaths of Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Black-Lestrange. For once, Voldemort could blame him for nothing… and he could still carry out Dumbledore's charge, uninterrupted.

Thanks to that responsibility, though, he'd spent so much of his energy and attention this year caring for Gryffindors and other Houses. He knew Slughorn was competent enough to comfort first-years, advise second and fifth years, and otherwise guide Severus's Slytherins… but his concerns were tugged in a special way by that seventh-year cohort, and to see two members of it redeeming themselves, much (sometimes, he felt, too much) as he had, so long ago, at the behest of a redheaded witch… no one knew so well the game they played as Severus himself did. He thanked every mercy there was that they were playing it well, thus far. As long as nothing dramatic erupted within Hogwarts Castle, he felt they would be able to keep walking the line of neutrality.

Uncharacteristically, Severus Snape reached out and snagged one of the bowls of little chocolate candies, popping several in his mouth at once.

* * *

Draco's eyes flicked across the room to Neville, and met Neville's own, awkwardly, before sliding away. When the solemn Slytherin had approached him in the hallway a fortnight before, he had seemed taken aback by how enthusiastic Neville was to talk to him. "Don't tell me Blaise ruined the surprise I had for you," Malfoy had sulked.

"Blaise? No – our family ring has been keyed into a spell of my Gran's for years to let us know –" But the sheer astonishment on Malfoy's face tipped Neville off: "That's not what you wanted to tell me, is it?"

Malfoy had shook his head and asked if there was somewhere they could sit and talk, with any protection Neville might know of. Neville offered the Muffliato spell, and either the Room of Requirement, or the Kitchens, and was rather surprised when the Death Eater's heir indicated a preference for sitting on bags of flour amongst scurrying house elves. But details like that were driven fully from his mind when he thought to ask – "Is this about Ginny? Did she not get off safe, after all? My Gran said she was with her-"

At which point, an elegant hand was clapped over his mouth. "I don't need to know that," Malfoy reminded him. "This is about how Ginny _did_ get off safe, and I suspect, does answer the story of what the Longbottom family ring has told you, but the reason I'd actually been trying to pin you down to talk to you all week since getting back is because… I have news for you. About Luna."

Neville's heart skipped a few beats, rather as though Malfoy had clenched his fist around it. "What kind of news?" he asked in dread. Everyone knew Malfoy was finally responding to his parents' expectations – he'd even been mentioned in the Prophet in the same sentence as the Dark Lord, for goodness' sakes.

"Good news. Reassuring news." Malfoy smiled, and in a rush of overjoyed charity, Neville could see what Ginny saw in the braggart. Then Malfoy had told him how his best friends had been captured, brought to the Manor, how Malfoy – Draco – had lied to save them, even if his retelling tried to downplay that angle. How Bellatrix had been about to torture Hermione for information, but Draco's assurance that it wasn't them spared her that. How he'd returned to warn Ginny, setting her into flight. How he'd returned, just in time to see Bellatrix die, just in time to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione's spectacular jail-break – and to see everyone they'd sprung with them: Ollivander, a goblin, and Luna. "Neville – I… I'm so sorry."

Alarmed, Neville's head snapped up (he'd kept staring at the floor so Mal – Draco – wouldn't see his tears of relief.) "You said she got away, though? Why…"

The steely-eyed boy actually gripped Neville's shoulder in sheer apology. "I'm sorry that she was being held there, at my parents' house, for so long. If only I'd swung by over Christmas break, I might have found out, could have let you know, and you could've whipped up your people or something, tried a rescue…"

He fixed Draco with what Hermione once called his "cut-the-crap" stare. "Forget it. There's no amount of blame, or doubt, or any such nonsense, that matters half a gram to me. If Luna's safe, then I don't have a care in the world." When he saw the pained, wistful look on Draco's face, he tried to fight back the dopey, blissful smile he knew was taking over his own face. "Draco – she is OK, you know."

Now it was Draco's head that snapped up in shock.

"Ginny – she's safe. Won't tell you where, or how, or with who – but there's no way that anyone can get at her." Neville spoke with confidence born of knowing secrets – his Gran had told him about the Weasley family's lockdown, though not why, and how Ginny had, to her parents' great relief, shown up about an hour after everyone had begun to panic, at her Aunt Muriel's house, where she was set upon by her sobbing mother, and soon joined by the rest of her refugee family in the stuffy old house, which was Unplottable and Fidelius-protected, unlike the abandoned Burrow.

With Neville's assurance, Draco seemed to sag, looking about ready to turn into a puddle on the floor. "Really? Like, absolutely secure?" When Neville nodded, Draco, triumphant, tugged off his ring and shoved it into his pocket.

Suddenly the past week's tales of Draco dancing attendance on the Dark Lord, constantly at his parents' sides, made a great deal more sense. "You spent the last two weeks skulking around the Manor, just to try and get news of her?!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in admiration. "What are you, a damn stupid Gryffindor?"

"Stupid, at least," Draco had admitted ruefully, "not to have thought of just asking one of you."

Since that talk, the two Slytherins had consulted – using the utmost caution – with the DA, using Neville as their contact. They were, in truth, of little use to the DA, since Blaise was disgraced and therefore neither boy got much in the way of information to the advantage of the students. Draco had passed on a very select handful of things he'd picked up, before he stopped hanging around the Manor, but of those Neville had only passed on a couple, remembering Ginny's admonition that informants should never pass along anything self-incriminating.

It amused Neville greatly, to be better at this new covert game than either of Ginny's boyfriends/lovers/whatever – were.

* * *

Blaise's first clue that a tempest approached was the way Neville bounced through the halls, smacking around suits of armor. When Peeves came tattling to the re-instated Head Boy, he marched straight up to the seventh floor to tell their erstwhile ally off for being rather unsubtle. "For fuck's sake, is this a 'welcome back to being Head Boy' present, Nev? What in hell are you doing?"

"Summoning you," the round-faced boy smirked at him.

Patiently, Blaise restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "What for?"

Neville cast an abrupt Muffliato. "To let you know that Harry, Ron, and Hermione are in there." He jerked a thumb at a stretch of blank wall which Blaise's blank mind belatedly remembered was home to the Room of Requirement.

"Ah, motherfucking-" Blaise began to swear, then changed course, plaintively asking, "Dammit, Neville, why are you doing this to me?"

Neville just rolled his eyes. "Put it this way: do you want Draco and Ginny to not be in danger from _Him_ just because of their families?"

Blaise felt utterly floored. "Wait. This is – this isn't your usual shite? This is… it's the real shite, this time? None of your lighting firecrackers and causing mischief – you're actually starting something serious?"

Impatient, Neville rolled his eyes again. "Do you think Harry Bloody Potter would show up to help prank prefects or change the colors of the Carrows' robes? And do you think I would tell you in advance if it were just juvenile pranks?" His pale face grew grim. "You're the Head Boy, and sympathetic to us. Can we ask for a better person to do damage control?"

"Bloody fucking hell…" Blaise groaned, but he felt like bouncing on the soles of his feet. "What do you want of me, specifically?"

"Just stand by. Here." Neville pulled out a Chocolate Frog card from the depths of his robe pocket – it was slightly sticky – and before Blaise's unbelieving eyes, cast the Protean Charm on it. "Now you'll be updated."

* * *

"Updated?" Draco repeated with disgust. "How kind of him. 'We're going to go kick over a beehive, hang tight, we'll keep you updated.' Nice, Longbottom."

Patiently, Blaise let Draco rant himself out, pacing around and around the sofa in the seventh-year's lounge in the dungeons. When he finally ran out of steam, they cuddled, the innocuous-seeming Card sitting on the table, feeling as though it were looming over them.

For all their anxieties, they were both dozing, forty-five minutes later, when it buzzed, and the patch of table it was sitting on began smoking. Blaise leapt for it – "Augh, damnation, Nev," he cursed, dropping it again. "Overdid that Protean Charm, didn't you?"

"_Protean Charm?_ Longbottom did a _Protean Charm?_" Draco was exclaiming, but Blaise ignored him, picking up the Chocolate Frog card again gingerly. The text on the back was melting and rearranging itself, no longer telling the life story of the sorceress Cliodna, but instead informing Blaise and Draco: "Carrows caught! Snape ran away! Other teachers taking back school! Warning – Harry says Y-K-W on way."

Eyes bulging, Draco and Blaise stared at each other over the cheerily purple-and-pink little card, utter horror sinking like ice into their brains.

Stephen Willsbury then skidded into the dorm. "Blaise, Slughorn sent me to get you – McGonagall asked for you specifically – want you to meet them outside Ravenclaw's tower – they said something about evacuation –"

At the word evacuation, their paralysis broke: "Thank all the powers _someone's_ thinking sensibly," Draco hissed, as both boys bolted for the door.

Behind them, Willsbury tentatively called out, "She only asked for Blaise, Draco…" But they were already sprinting through the Common Room.

* * *

_A.N. - This one is short because the second half of it was A, rapidly growing out of control and 2, going to hold up this already-completed part. And, the end is yet another chapter away. Greaaaaaat. (No, seriously, great - it means more DGB awesomeness. At least, it does if you guys are nice and complimentary about the chapters leading up to the end.)_


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty Three**

_Tally of times Draco swore during the Final Battle, as recorded by G. M. Weasley:_

_IIIII IIIII I  
_

_Actual tally, had Ginny been with him the whole time:_

_IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIII_

_The Second Ultimatum from You-Know-Who:_

_If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste... I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour... I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you... I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour._

* * *

Even if not for Willsbury's panicked attitude and Neville's concise message, it would have been evident that something monumental was going on, and not just because of the Snape-shaped hole in the wall.

"Blaise! Thank goodness I have a reliable Head Boy" (with even more fervent relief, Draco and Blaise's thoughts went to the just-deposed Theo) "- I don't know how I could evacuate everyone otherwise …And, Draco, good to see you're willing to help, as well?" McGonagall finished warily. "Erm. Blaise – can you go with Neville to the Room of Requirement? And Draco…" she repeated to herself, thoughtfully.

Neville broke in. "Professor, can Draco come with me, instead?" He was met with a blank look of shock. "Er – since Blaise can be of use rousing the castle. Head Boy, and all?"

McGonagall blinked slowly. "If… none of you three has a problem with that arrangement," she conceded, in a delicate tone, watching Draco's face most closely.

"Brilliant," he said, flashing a charming smile at her, and took off racing down the corridor with Neville as the shorter, rounder boy began, between puffs of breath, to explain how they could organize the DA to let the younger children through the portrait-passage, into Hogsmeade.

McGonagall looked, for a moment, as though she was going to ask Blaise what that was all about. Instead, she took a deep breath, then launched into highly complex instructions on how to help animate the various defenses of the castle, which made Blaise intensely grateful he'd stopped being lazy for just long enough to have signed up for NEWT Transfiguration classes, on a hazy afternoon two years ago.

* * *

Draco was lining up the little kids with as much patience as he could grab ahold of. Unfortunately, only the first years who'd been in Re-Education detentions, and knew him as 'Ginny's friend with the sweets,' were actually minding him. The rest were in chaos. Rolling his eyes, he took the ones who were obliging enough to listen to him, and herded them off down the tunnel, leaving the rest of the raving fools to Neville.

All his attention was fixed on the sniffling kids following him trustingly, telling them they would be out of here and with their parents in no time. He mindlessly dodged the people flooding the _other_ direction, back _into_ the school. It was a mix of DA students, returning from leading evacuees, and strangers who were unquestionably Order members – one of them, a tall figure with a ponytail and a two-inch fang hanging from his ear, nearly tripped Draco in the half-lit passageway, having stopped short unexpectedly, but Draco weaved around the shadowy figure, and the first years followed him, like ducklings, with even more ease, being smaller and finding the passage much less oppressively claustrophobic.

In short order, though, they reached the Hog's Head. Two wizards were maintaining a barrier round the place, probably in order to allow Apparitions, which were proceeding at a fast and furious pace, adults taking evacuated students Side-Along, and other adults popping in and charging down the passage to join the forces guarding the school. As he watched, with Neville, whose group had finally caught up, to be sure someone was taking charge of their first-years, three redheads erupted into the empty space in front of him.

"Ginny," he said, breath coming only faintly. Then the breath was utterly crushed out of him, as his Quidditch-mad girlfriend tackled him, smashing into his arms as though she were a Bludger. As they crashed heedlessly into a wall, still laughing madly and wrapping their arms around each other, Draco covering Ginny's face with fervently, blissfully happy kisses, Draco faintly heard someone – Neville – breaking up what sounded the like the beginning of a duel – at any rate, a couple of the Apparators were upset about something – Draco, face buried in Ginny's hair, as she shook in his arms, could have cared less.

Finally, they came up for air, and found themselves face to face with Neville. "Are you _quite_ finished?" he asked tolerantly. Though addressing them, Neville's wand and attention were directed across the room. Following the line of it, Draco saw… murderously angry Weasley twins.

"_Merde,_" Draco muttered.

"You swore!" Ginny marveled in delighted shock. Draco and Neville both ignored her.

"They're going to leave you alone, I think. I told them I'd turn them both into company for Trevor if they didn't."

"Though why the hell a fucking Death Eater should get a free pass from us is still a mystery," one of the lads sneered angrily from across the room.

Draco pecked Ginny on the cheek, brushed past Neville, who was still standing between him and the twins protectively, and strode across the room, drawing his own wand along the way. "Why the hell should _you_ get a free pass from _me_? I find that a more interesting question. I nearly got killed by You-Know-Who trying to ensure your sister got _out_ of the castle safely, and now with him on the way, you bring her _back_?"

Both the male Weasleys' jaws worked furiously, but they appeared to be out of insults. Finally, one – Fred, Draco thought he might be – said in a tired way, "She used Bat-Bogeys on us till we promised to take her."

Standing toe-to-toe in front of the fireplace, that much was fairly obvious, now that Draco looked – both their faces bore more peck-marks than freckles, at the moment. "Hope you fight Death Eaters better than you do your sister, then, is all I can say," Draco sneered lightly, and turned away from them to focus on Ginny. "You – you're helping with evacuation, and that means you're damn well not leaving the Room of Requirement, got it?"

She only rolled her eyes at him. "Such a foul mouth, Draco. Speaking of which, where's dear Blaise?"

Draco jerked a thumb at Neville. "He's in charge of communication with Blaise – wherever that lout is now, we'll get him back to the Room of Requirement to see you, straight away. We both missed you terribly," he added lowly, but not low enough.

From behind him came two poorly-muffled noises of outrage as the significance of Ginny's questions about Blaise and Draco's revealing answer crashed over the obtuse heads of the Weasley twins.

* * *

Draco emerged from the passageway talking animatedly – seeing him return, not having fled at the first chance, having shouldered responsibility, helped others, Minerva could now fully embrace this miracle of one of her students seeing the Light, as it were. Then he offered a courteous arm for the figure behind him, and Ginny Weasley took it, stepping carefully through the portrait and beaming up at him with a look that conveyed far more than simple gratitude for his gentlemanly gesture.

_Oh_. Oh, indeed. The mystery of Blaise sticking by Draco's side in Ginny's absence, despite Ginny and Blaise's passionate embrace before she left – well. Not such a mystery, now, was it?

Minerva smirked. The charm of wayward romances between courting students had long been one of her inspirations on the battleground, and in this case, to come, as it did, with a readymade redemption tale – she knew she was a 'softie,' idealizing her students so much, but this was just the best imaginable blend of wondrous, innocent young love, and a touching instance of two boys' salvation from what might have been; one of her fiercest lionesses ransoming not one, but two Slytherins from the Dark side…

So quietly that no one could hear her, Minerva sniffed a bit. She let the warm looks between Ginny and Draco, and those she'd seen between Ginny and Blaise, and between the boys, nestle up in her chest, joining the stew of love, pride, devotion, and fierce courage she would be tapping in the coming fight.

* * *

In the corner of the room, Bill was doing a handy bit of fast talking. He'd arrived only a moment after his father, but only a few minutes before Ginny, the twins, and Draco Malfoy arrived. His father's voice, asking about Fleur, trailed off into nothingness, his expression had gone cold – Bill, looking over his shoulder, had understood instantly – "Dad." With not a bit of fear, he reached out to shake his father's shoulder, wrenching his attention away from the figures of their baby girl and the Malfoy boy.

The ever-growing crowd, obscuring the view rather quickly, helped shake Arthur back to reality. Or perhaps it was just the realization that there were far too many witnesses to the murder Arthur was contemplating. "Dad – I don't think he's the same boy, anymore. I ran into him not five minutes ago, holding a half-blood first-year's hand and talking the kid out of crying. He was _leading_ them, Dad, helping evacuate the students. Helping the DA, Dad."

Arthur still looked like he couldn't credit it. Just then, two things happened. Augusta Longbottom's boy – young man, now, really – broke through the crowd, calling "Mr. Weasley!" with an urgent, nervous expression, and the door of the Room of Requirement swung open again, this time admitting an imposingly brawny boy with very mussed hair, who bolted over to Malfoy and Ginny, and kissed both on the mouth before the trio of teenagers collapsed into a tight hug.

Arthur turned a sort of cherry-red that made Bill, in a goblin-ish mood, think of iron being smelted. "Mr. – Mr. Weasley, sir –" Undaunted by his father's expression, Longbottom was tugging on Arthur's sleeve. Bill had to commend him for that. "They're the ones who've been keeping her safe and sane all year. They –" he gulped, looked around to see who was nearby, before lightly emphasizing, "they stayed with her, didn't abandon her…"

The color certainly drained out of Arthur's face at that. Whether for better or worse, Bill wasn't sure; he held his breath as Neville continued. "They're changed. They truly are. And at the very least, you owe them your daughter's safe return at the Easter holiday. They got her to McGonagall, and then risked their own necks to ensure no one knew what had happened to her, that she'd gotten home, to her family, safely. You should have seen how furious Draco was at the twins, that they'd brought her back."

The tension ebbed away now – they could all feel it. Bill was noting with interest Neville's use of Malfoy's first name. Arthur, most probably, was struck by the sympathy between his attitude and Malfoy's regarding Ginny's presence at the battle-site. Bill winced in sympathy for George and Fred – they were going to feel their father's wrath later, if there was a later.

"You swear for them?" Arthur asked evenly.

Neville blinked once, nodded.

"If you see Ron – or, Bill, if you see Charlie – tell them they're to be left alone. They have my trust. For now." He furrowed his brow. "I'd best find Fred and George… let them know how things stand."

* * *

Frankly, the world was probably about to end, and Ginny was deliriously happy. Blaise, who'd apparently helped arm the castle for attack – and what had happened to her indifferent, neutral boyfriends anyway? – and Draco, who was leading children to be evacuated, were now glued to her side. Whatever came next, she would have them.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _damnit_."

Out of habit, Ginny nearly opened her mouth to reproach Blaise, but at the last second realized, to dawning horror, that it was _Draco_ who was cursing a blue streak. Ice gripped her heart. And it was only worse when she turned to see what the matter was, and realized he had fished his onyx pinky ring out of his pocket and was now gripping it with white, deadened fingers, eyeing it with a fixated look of dread.

"Dray." Blaise was grabbing his elbow, trying to restrain his boyfriend. "Dray, don't, just ignore –"

"I can't," he interrupted brokenly, "It's my mum. I can't not go to her, not if…"

Ginny's head had been whirling with tactical considerations of whether he should answer the call or not – on the whole, though her emotions screamed out 'No!,' she rather thought he should, to take advantage of the possibility that in the coming battle, both sides would consider him an ally, and neither would target him – but his rasping protest drove home the true point of all this – if he and his family were on opposite sides, and one side won while the other lost, it was well nigh inevitable…

"Go," she said, helping Draco break Blaise's death grip on his wrist. Draco danced out of Blaise's reach immediately – Blaise shot them both searing looks of betrayal – "Keep her sidelined," Draco ordered, and vanished the next moment.

"As if I'd fucking well do anything else," Blaise hissed at the empty space where he'd been. Looking around the room, he seized _her_ wrist, now, and tugged her over to a huddle of first-years.

Her stomach was knotted with fear for Draco, anxiety for Blaise, dread for them all; she shoved all that aside, and took up a tiny, petite eleven year-old's hand as tightly as Draco had held Blaise's and Blaise had held hers.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, in the middle of organizing recalcitrant fourteen year olds to leave, a dread voice rang out, penetrating even the walls of the Room of Requirement – or perhaps the Room knew that those inside needed to here this announcement.

The voice sounded like thunder breaking, but that normally ominous sound was innocent compared to Lord Voldemort's promise of clemency if Harry Potter was handed over, and promise of an attack if he wasn't.

The DA and Order members, exchanging tight, horrified looks, stepped up their efforts. Everyone else commenced panicking. Draco reappeared in the midst of the renewed chaos. He paid no mind to their immediate frantic hugs, or to Bill Weasley lurking over his shoulder hoping for a chance to debrief him. "So my mother has relayed our 'orders,'" he informed Blaise.

"Oh?" asked Blaise, face rapidly looking sickly and green.

"We're supposed to kill as many Order members and Hogwarts defenders as possible, except for Potter. The Dark Lord is saving him - obviously."

Both boys' eyes noted the slight puff of Ginny's cheeks as she released a breath she was holding. It hadn't escaped their scheming minds that they now occupied the same castle as her ex-boyfriend, and that everyone around them, everyone on this side they'd accidently joined, liked him a whole hell of a lot more than the two of them.

"So what are we _actually_ doing?" Blaise pressed Draco for guidance.

Draco chewed on his lip. "Keeping Ginny safe, ultimately…" It was clear, though, that his mind was racing. When he reached a conclusion, he sighed heavily. "Damn Gryffindors."

"-Draco!-" Ginny interjected.

"Alright, sorry, but seriously. I know evacuations were a priority, but if McGonagall hadn't launched right into them,"

"-_and_ the defense of the castle," Blaise pointed out, less in the interest of fair-mindedness and more so that his own contribution wouldn't be overlooked.

"The point is," Draco resumed, annoyed, "She should have kicked all of us out first thing." His gesturing hand encompassed his and Blaise's green-trimmed robes and snake-patches.

"Wow. Could you sound more like my brother?" Ginny marveled, somewhat put off, making Bill snicker at Ron's expense.

"I'm not the only one who reported to those bastards," Draco hissed, anguished.

Ginny paled. "Not…"

Blaise's eyes grew wide. "Oh, fuck, really?" Draco nodded tersely. "You should have slugged that stringy, slimy little cocksucker, not kissed him," Blaise vented, pounding a fist into his palm by way of demonstration.

"Kissed?..." Ginny asked faintly, a look of revulsion creeping across her face. Bill slipped away to find a professor to consult with.

"Never mind," Draco brushed her off. "The point is, I'm the ideal person to clean up McGonagall's loose ends. Take her back to the Room, Blaise, and don't dare let her leave…"

"_Goddammit!_" Blaise exploded, "Why do _you_ always run off, when I know you want to be safe with Ginny just as badly as I do? Stay _safe_, Draco – your mother's instructions included me as well, I could just as easily do it…"

Draco's hard frown wavered a moment. He ducked in and tugged the back of Blaise's neck, pulling Blaise's pouty lips to his and kissing him – hard, at first, before melting into his boyfriend, and holding close a moment, motionless, before roughly breaking it off. "You could fit in with them if you wanted, yeah, until the killing began. I'm not letting you be there for that. Deal with it."

And he was gone again.

* * *

"ALL FIGHTERS. ATTENTION. ANYONE WHO HAS BEEN IN MORE THAN THREE BATTLES MAY DEFEND THE GROUNDS. ALL OTHER FIGHTERS, BREAK UP IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER. A-E TO FILCH IN THE MAIN CORRIDOR OF THE FIFTH FLOOR, TO MAN THE HIGHEST TOWERS. F-K TO THE ENTRANCE HALL. L-O TO THE GREAT HALL. P-W, FIND YOUR HEAD OF HOUSE AND REPORT FOR FUTHER INSTRUCTION. W-Z, JOIN THE WEASLEY TWINS IN THE SEVENTH FLOOR HALLWAY, TO GUARD THE SECRET PASSAGEWAYS."

With that announcement the population of the Room of Requirement (which had begun to resemble the Great Hall in size) began to dwindle rapidly. Ginny was still hiding tears from her terror over Draco and her horror of the Dark Lord; her face was buried in Blaise's shoulder. When he tried to shift away she struggled – her cheeks were still shining with tears. She didn't want to look around – till a low, level voice said, "Ginny…" Then she whirled right around to face her father, as Blaise had been trying to get her to do.

His eyes didn't even flicker to Blaise's thick forearms wrapped around her still; he only looked at her softly, fondly. She flew into his arms to hug him. He kissed the peak of her forehead. Then he addressed her boyfriend over her head: "Blaise Zabini,"

Even given everything else weighing down her heart, Ginny couldn't help analyzing that – the neutrality of his voice, the fact it was a strangely formal address, but not the distant 'Mr. Zabini.' Of course, in her obsessing, she missed his next words, only tuning in again when Blaise replied, "Absolutely."

She blinked, wondering what she'd missed. Her father stepped back, holding her at arm's length. When she only looked at him blankly, he chuckled. "For a boy to finally be a good, _calming_ influence on you…" He held her close again for a fast squeeze. "I love you, Ginevra Molly." Following the rest of the combatants, he drew away. Realizing just in time the gravity of the moment, she choked out, "I love you too, Dad."

An instant was all she needed to compose herself – already her veins were rushing with adrenaline. "Alright. We're W through Z, should we find my brothers? Or do you have battle experience under your belt? – We could fight outside -"

Blaise groaned. "Do you listen to anything your father or your brothers or your boyfriends say?"

"Oh, did my father say who to report to?" she asked, surprised.

"In a sense…" Blaise conceded, trepidation creeping across his face.

"What sense?" she asked in a flat tone.

"The sense that he had me swear to keep you out. You're underage, my fairest little firecracker."

Her immediate outrage joined the tumultuous state of her battling mood, and her wand was in her hand before she could think. And also before she could think, Blaise cast non-verbally, and had her wand in hand a heartbeat later.

Galled, she informed him in icy tones, "You are going to _pay_ for this if we're still alive in the morning."

"If we're still alive, I'll pay it and be well-pleased."

* * *

Everyone has their price, though, and by the time the battle outside was joined, Ginny had discovered hers, deigning to allow Blaise to run his fingers through her hair, since it soothed her jangling nerves.

With his fingernails running from her scalp to the ends of her hair, sorting tangles and providing gentle tugs to ground her, Ginny managed an approximation of outward calm, eyes closed and hands folded on her stomach, head cradled in Blaise's lap. Blaise, similarly, managed to look composed, focusing alternatively on each strand of Ginny's hair, and their surroundings, now that the room was finally empty and he could study DA Headquarters at his leisure – 'leisure' being hardly accurate to describe the tumult both of them were experiencing, their thoughts ranging far, far away from their physical presence together.

The door burst in unexpectedly – though as keyed up as they were, the sudden action seemed to fit the tension – and in strode one of Draco's and her brothers' biggest rivals for Ginny's worries and fears.

"Merlin's spotted dick," murmured Blaise, but that was lost in Ginny's yelp of "HARRY," and his own yelp as she bolted up, crushing him in a tender spot as she clambered to her feet.

Once standing, though, she froze, not about to rush towards him for an embrace as she might have in July, before her bitter sensibilities had come to the fore, and not at all sure how to act towards someone on whom all her hopes for happiness hung… especially given that she wanted that happiness with his old foes.

"Your father said you two would be here," were his first words, but despite being warned, he still had a somewhat pole-axed look about him. "I…"

"Do you need our help?" Ginny blurted into the silence, eager to show that she was still _on_ his side, if not _at_ his side.

"Well – actually, I – I hate to say this but I… need your sanctuary." Blaise growled immediately. "I know!" Harry hastened to say, rumpling his already madly messy hair. "You'll have to guard her out _there_, Zabini. There's no other way." Thoughtlessly, he added, "Please, Hermione and Ron are waiting outside, we need to get you out so we can change the Room…"

At that, Ginny bolted, and it was everything Blaise could do to keep a hand on her shoulder as she tore out of the room. "Luck, Potter," he shouted over his shoulder at the 'Undesirable Number One' whose specter had lurked over the Inquisitorial Squad all year.

"RON! Hermione!" his idiot girlfriend was shrieking, making the other two Gryffindors quickly try to hush her and hug her at the same time.

"Yep, we're alive," Ron said placidly, his face lighting up through a haggard expression. Blaise was just pleased Weasley was distracted by the reunion and ignoring his own attempts to hide behind Ginny. Evidently, Blaise was just written off as a guard. He pitied the Weasleys' lives the past few years, that being guarded was evidently normal.

Potter, meanwhile, had followed them out, and now stalked up and down before the portrait, face contorted with such desperate need that Blaise felt sorry for the Room if it didn't show exactly what Potter wanted. But then he was throwing the door open, and called rapturously, "It's what we need!"

As fast as they'd whirled into Ginny's life, they were gone again, piling into the Room. Blaise's mind raced to where they could go next – although – where would Draco find them, then? Ginny appeared to already have considered the idea, and made her decision. Feet firmly planted, she stuck out a hand. "Wand. Now."

"Alright, but we're not _staying_-" he tried to negotiate.

Her response was a withering look. "Anyone who comes looking for them only has to want to find Harry Potter to open the door on the correct Room. We stay. You guard me, I'll guard them."

Plaintive, he began trying to plead with her, but she only stuck her hand out till she was jabbing him in the chest. Feeling increasingly stupid and frustrated, he was starting to contemplate Stunning her and dragging her into a forgotten back-corridor, when footsteps pounded around the corner, at which point he jammed Ginny's wand back into her hand hastily.

"Really, Zabini? Now, of all times, you decide to take back your little Gryffindor cunt?" the sickening jeer rang out.

Ginny went white around the lips and knuckles. Blaise growled again. They squared their stances to face the trio of Theo, Greg and Vincent careening around the corner. The three Slytherins lashed out with spells without another word, but Blaise already had Protegos up for he and Ginny, and Ginny was casting something vicious-sounding in a heartbeat. What it did, he wasn't sure, but Greg keeled over with a shriek.

Vincent gave a low groan and made to dive after his best friend, but Theo hauled roughly on his sleeve, indicating the blank wall hiding the Room. "We've got bigger fish to fry! Fuck Goyle, if he's knocked out by a fucking girl!" The 'fucking girl' set a swarm of Bat-Bogeys on the stringy object of her ire. He was unfazed even as scores of red marks appeared on his face. "Knock the losers out," he ordered crisply as he strode purposefully before the door.

Vincent's face was still a mask of rage over Greg. That was the only explanation Blaise had for the way the bastard exploded his shields. He started to wish he'd paid as much attention in Dark Arts as his peers evidently had. He dredged up a good, painful hex, but Vincent, for once, was thinking, it seemed.

Ropes hurled themselves through the air at he and Ginny, pinning them to the wall with rapidly growing barbs. It was uncomfortably, not deadly, and Blaise would have been grateful for that, and for the sight of the boys striding away into the Room of Requirement, if it weren't for the situation. The sounds of battle were heightening all the time. A face-full of dust settled on him, shaken from the rafters by some nearby concussive shock.

Salazar's luck was still with them – the first person on the fringes of the nearby battle to round the corner was another freckled redhead, this one wearing glasses. "PERCY," Ginny hollered. He looked up, looked back, cast a fast, sticky purple mess to clog the hallway he'd come from, and hurried to his sister's side.

"God, Ginny, you madwoman," he marveled. "Figures, I come back and find you involved in this mess too. And – Blaise. From one prodigal fighter to another, nice to meet you." As he talked in a rapid, forced-humorous way, his fingers flew nimbly up the barbed rope, and jabbed his wand into it at certain spots. It dissolved just as a roar came sounding up the stairwell. "Bollocks." Percy sprinted away again, blowing a kiss to his sister and vanishing the purple gook, leaving the pair to pick disgusting, wilted fibers off themselves.

Ginny gave up momentarily, her eyes blurring over and fingers shaking too much to manage the task. "God, Percy, you mad, mad boy…" she echoed her brother's words. "Why he would come back… oh, he finally came back, though," and she collapsed sniffling into Blaise's still-disgusting, filament-encrusted shoulder, leaving her boyfriend bewildered.

A second later, she bounced back, and bounded over to the wall, bringing up the door in a trice. "Like _fuck_ you do," Blaise howled, racing after her, but he didn't need to worry. The door was flaming hot, and Ginny could barely wrap her hand around the knob.

She would have kept throwing herself at the damn door, if not for the appearance of a slim blonde next to her. Neither had seen him approach, and both came close to giving themselves whiplash in the ensuing double-take. "Thank Godric, Draco," Ginny sobbed, reeling from the constant sudden appearances of people so near to her heart.

"Where's that fucker gone to?" Draco demanded even as he wrapped grimy arms around his lovers, pulling them against his chest.

"You can't follow him, not now," Blaise started to say, when the door blasted open in a jet stream of roasting, blistering air.

A broom shot out, the twigs of it not much more than smoldering cinders. And in fact, it crashed almost immediately, broadside against the far wall. The three figures of Harry, Hermione and Ron slumped off in a heap, rather than dismounting. "Shut the door," Hermione told them urgently, but made no move herself.

Ginny hastily made to obey, to be cut off by Draco, interposing himself between her and the swirling roar of spark-laden air. The temperature seemed to instantly drop back twenty degrees when he forced the door shut again. "Tell me that wasn't Fiendfyre," he implored the three shell-shocked Gryffindors.

"Was," Ron mumbled. "Your mates are dead, Malfoy, but we just made Voldemort that much weaker."

A pinched, malicious smile grew across Draco's face. Unconsciously, he wrapped a possessive arm around Ginny's waist. "W- Ronald, that's the best news I've heard in two fucking weeks." Ginny flushed, realizing it was probably two weeks ago he head she was safe.

"That's a nice sense of charitable feeling toward your fellow Slytherin," Hermione said with a touch of aspersion.

"I meant the bit about the Dark Lord," he snapped defensively, "and you can ask Ginny about just how bad _she_ wanted Theo Nott dead, and then talk to me about charity." Ginny cringed at the thought of her worst episode of covert resistance, but her chin in the air indicated she was firmly in agreement with him on the score of Nott's death.

"_I_ need to ask Ginny something," Potter broke in then, still bleary-looking from the fight, and the deaths.

Draco and Blaise grew absolutely still. "Yes?" Blaise ventured testily.

Potter was looking at Ginny alone. "Gin? He jerked his head back up the corridor.

Draco knew what she would do before she did, even, and let her hand go when she made to slip it out of his grip.

While the Chosen One consulted with their girlfriend, they were eyeballed warily by Hermione and Ron. It was only reasonable to stare them down in return. Which was how Draco noticed the state the two were in. "Here – Granger -" he said roughly, "_IF_ you trust me, I'd like to help with those burns and contusions."

He received a two-second long fish-eyed stare before she blinked, and said, dawningly, "You kept me from being tortured by your aunt. Let's see –" she shoved up her sleeves, "- I think this one on my arm's the worst cut. And if you can – Ronald's bunged up his left hand." Quietly, Blaise moved smoothly to the redhead, who extended his hand without hesitation. That was the last they spoke until Ginny returned.

She was alone. "He's gone… somewhere. Under the cover of the attack. He'll be back though. He said so." The twist of her mouth said she remembered all too well the last time she'd heard that type of line from the Boy Hero.

Roars echoed from somewhere below them, punctuated by sharp, loud cries from duelers. "She needs to be gotten out of here," Ron said sternly, speaking at the same time as Draco urged, "Ginny. Time to go."

Ginny's brother was nearly a head taller than Draco, but their eyes met evenly for just an instant, before Ron and Hermione scrambled to join the battle and Blaise jerked Ginny towards the dark, quiet passage that could take them to a back staircase.

* * *

They had to fight through a tangle of Ministry officials to get to their goal, but they were only somewhat more battered when they reached the dusty passage and the boys advanced, wands drawn, on the portrait of the alabaster angel. They ascertained Ginny's old workroom was clear of threats, and as good as shoved her inside, piling in after her, slamming the portrait back into place, and piling mounds of defensive spells on the entrance.

Ginny was shaking like a leaf – she insisted it was only because of the sprint downstairs and deep into the castle. They accepted that at face value and quickly arranged her between them, Blaise somehow also insinuating himself so that Draco was lying along his chest. He couldn't help feeling as if he were at the eye of a hurricane that was plucking at both his lovers. Stroking both their hair, he reassured himself that they were his, not the world's, that he had them and could keep them and they would be safe, still alive and still with him at the end of the night.

When Ginny let out a half-sighing snore, Draco closed his eyes briefly in thankful prayer, then caught Blaise's gaze. They exchanged glances taut with steel-coil tension. Draco and Blaise had each been half-positive, when Ginny had gone off with Potter, that he needed her to run off with him for some scheme with all bravado and no brains that would risk both their lives. The worst of it was, they weren't at all sure she'd have turned him down. So getting her here, ensconced in this room, was only partly about keeping her out of danger, and a good part about making sure she couldn't go anywhere, couldn't rush off to anyone's rescue.

They'd mostly calmed down, as she drowsed on their laps. Draco couldn't help thinking of the night when, clearly furious about Potter, she'd come to find them here, how they'd both kissed her, the three-way clashing of their mouths like satin rubbing together. He had to quickly stifle those thoughts. Of all the times and places in which it would be inappropriate for Ginny to wake to find his pants at attention…

And shortly, she was jolted back awake, by another proclamation from the Dark Lord ringing through the castle. Blaise's stomach twisted to find even their sanctuary here was violated by that cocksucker.

"IF YOU CONTINUE TO RESIST ME, YOU WILL ALL DIE, ONE BY ONE."

Always the bloody cheerful one, the Dark Lord. When Ginny's face crumpled into a mask of despair, though, Blaise shoved aside his own glum thoughts. "Why is it never 'two by two?'" he muttered to himself _sotto voice_. Draco cracked the barest of grins.

"I DO NOT WISH THIS TO HAPPEN."

"Of course you do, you prick, you get off on it," Draco replied to the still-echoing air, in a flat tone.

"EVERY DROP OF MAGICAL BLOOD SPILLED IS A LOSS AND A WASTE… I COMMAND MY FORCES TO RETREAT IMMEDIATELY. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR…"

"Huh, who knew werewolves and Dementors obeyed commands?" Blaise asked in a speculative tone.

Draco gave a sour snort. "Only when they find something more terrifying than themselves. An even bigger monster." Ginny gave him a wry smile, with her eyes, even if it didn't really reach her still-trembling lips.

"I SPEAK NOW, HARRY POTTER, DIRECTLY TO YOU... I SHALL WAIT FOR ONE HOUR IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST."

"I'm sorry, as Head Boy, I must inform you, the Forbidden Forest is, well, forbidden. Detention, Dark Lord, Friday night. With McGonagall. Yeah, even you're afraid of the Old Cat, aren't you?" Blaise jeered, quite absorbed into his game now.

"…HAVE NOT GIVEN YOURSELF UP, THEN BATTLE RECOMMENCES."

"Not really one for surprise attacks, is he? Has he even _heard_ of The Art of War?" Draco, who had read it every year under his father's order, marveled.

"THIS TIME, I SHALL ENTER THE FRAY MYSELF, HARRY POTTER, AND I SHALL FIND YOU, AND I SHALL PUNISH EVERY LAST MAN, WOMAN, AND CHILD WHO HAS TRIED TO CONCEAL YOU FROM ME. ONE HOUR."

"So really," Ginny chipped in, in the driest and thinnest of tones, "Harry himself can hardly be punished, right? He's always run madly round the Dark Lord, starkers, with a giant banner announcing, 'Hero, right here, totally hate you, come and get me!'"

Uncomfortably, Blaise and Draco gave the appropriate snickering accolades to her joke, but the three lapsed into uneasy silence after that anyway.

* * *

Just over an hour later, it was all over. The collapse of several floors beneath them had Draco and Blaise hustling Ginny from their hidey-hole, aiming to desperately break free of Hogwarts altogether – only to stumble into shocked crowds, as the ripples of news broke over them – the Dark Lord was dead, Harry Potter had won.

The world became a whirl of jubilation, then, although from dawn of that day on through nightfall, as Blaise and Draco lurked towards the backs and sides of the gatherings and impromptu celebrations, they were aware of a creeping uncomfortableness. Neville stayed by their sides for a peaceful hour, and Bill Weasley held superficial but pleasant chats with each of them, and the Patil twins came over with their parents to introduce them, which resulted in the bizarre situation of Mr. Patil offering the two Slytherins cushy positions in his corporation and hinting broadly that they should marry his daughters as well. Who'd have thought that mock-seducing Parvati Patil would have landed them into that awkward scenario?

They managed to win free soon enough, though, to go back to lurking, and grappling with the uncomfortable truth, every time they glimpsed a red-haired Weasley, that parts of them would rather be back in Ginny's gift workshop, locked in fear and dread of the future, but with Ginny twined between them.

_

* * *

A.N. - Many apologies. This one needed working on in conjunction with the next (FINAL) chapter, so it dragged on forever. I think it's one of the most demanding battle scenes I've ever written, since it's the least AU one ever. To further complicate matters, my copy of Deathly Hallows was over 10,000 km away the whole time I was writing. Agh. So for the love of little apples, let me know if I got it right... or at the very least, leave me SOME kind of review lest the final chapter be Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies. (Yeah, right - I've already written a love scene far too much fun to ever actually cut.)_


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty Four**

_How Ginny Passed the First Day of Freedom from Voldemort:_

_- discovering the deaths of Fred, Remus Lupin, and Colin, and collapsing into mourning with her family and Tonks.  
- hearing the entire recounting of the events of the night from Neville, Hagrid, a completely broken-hearted Percy, and finally, after an hour of searching, from Harry.  
- being Molly-coddled to within an inch of her life when her mother found out she hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, resulting in Ginny not escaping her grieving mother's clutches till dinnertime.  
- searching the castle for forty-five minutes for her boyfriends till, unexpectedly, Padma pointed her in the right direction.  
- spying them, racing to them, desperately and out of breath, professing, "I love you both, Blaise, Draco," and falling bawling into their arms.  
- being hustled away as she broke down, to the Charms classroom of all places, and eventually crying herself to sleep between them in a mound of pillows that still bore rabbit-ears from their former lives._

_From an unfinished poem which spent the summer circulating by owl between Draco, Ginny and Blaise: "Things I Want to Do to My Lover's Bodies"_

_**A beautiful symmetry – three heartsas deeply in union as their bodies  
which sigh, glide, and surge, keeping time to an inaudible beat…**_

_(* Blaise, like the bit about sighing and gliding and surging, but what's this 'symmetry' nonsense? Do you think our date last weekend was exactly 'symmetrical?' When you're doing Draco and he's doing me, there's no 'inaudible beat,' just plain, furious fucking.)_

_(* Well, Ginny, maybe he wrote 'inaudible' by mistake, because there was nothing inaudible about the way you were shrieking like a bleeding banshee as I pounded you… Love you though.)_

_**Stacking joy on joy, stacking girl on boy, on boy…**_

_(* Dray, you can't write for shit, this line's gotta go. –G) (&B) (* You both can sod off, I thought it was clever.)_

_**Adorn tasty bodies with tasty treats,  
tracing paths of chocolate through paths of pleasure;**_

_(* Yes, alright, chocolate, we get the point, Gin.)_

_**The three-way clashing of their mouths  
is like satin rubbing together**_

_(* Hey…good one, Draco. You've redeemed yourself.) (* HOT one, Dray. Can't wait till I see you two later tonight.)_

* * *

Growing up, Ginny had never considered herself to be living under a shadow of war. Yes, there were bad things that happened, throughout her adolescence – the Chamber looming most prominently – but somehow, at the time, they didn't seem like battles in a war, just events in a too-eventful life. Her fourteenth summer, for example, spent in grimy Grimmauld Place, didn't _feel_ oppressive – after all, hadn't she pelted her brothers with Dungbombs, and giggled all night with Tonks, and fought intermittently with her mother, just as she would at the Burrow?

This summer, though, had been a revelation, as the brightness and the freedom of the last month of peace showed her what those past summers could have been.

"Going out," she called into the sitting room.

"Where to?" her mother asked, not anxiously, not in a forbidding way, just curious, a normal mother to a normal daughter.

"London," Ginny replied, popping her head in the doorway. "Oh – hello, Harry," she added awkwardly. He was quietly seated opposite her mother, a large pot of tea between them.

"How're you, Ginny? Going out to see Draco and Blaise?" His face was tired, but it always was on afternoons when he showed up for these spontaneous therapy sessions with her mother. His smile for her, and his emphasis on her boyfriend's first names, though, were open, completely genuine. Ginny shuffled her feet. "Ah – later, maybe. Right now I'm meeting Hermione, Lav, Angelina, Luna – we're going to Angelina's cousin's pub for dinner and drinks, and then Lav wants to make some kind of announcement or take us somewhere or something."

Her mother pursed her lips but said only, "Have fun, and be safe, dear." Ginny still hadn't decided what one thought was stranger – the changes in her personal life, such as her mother's determination to bury all old conflicts, which meant every time Ginny came home at two in the morning, her mother only asked had she had a fun night, courteously thanking whichever one of the boys saw her home safely – or, was it the country-wide ability to live out in the world again, finally? Either way, nothing could be further from two months ago at Aunt Muriel's cottage, where Moody barked at anyone who lingered near the shuttered, boarded-over windows. Now, Ginny was free to walk down Diagon Alley, free of worries of Snatchers or Blood Purity certificates.

"Take care, Ginny," Harry echoed, abruptly cutting into her thoughts. She smiled widely, which served best in fighting the sting of tears when he said that. He always did it; it was entirely on purpose. He had said the same thing to her when he'd left – to spy on Voldemort and Snape at the Shrieking Shack, it turned out – when they'd talked outside the Room of Requirement.

"_You're… with them," he'd stated. When she'd nodded, he asked, "How?"_

_It had been really neither the time nor the place to explain the ways Draco and Blaise had insinuated themselves into her life. She had to sketch it out fast, in Gryffindor short-hand, in a language Harry would comprehend. "They care for me, want to make me happy. And they're brave enough to show it. And I realized that in caring for them back, all three of us would have something better than wartime fear, than following stupid roles people expected of them – and of me, too," she added, and had only then realized, without them, how much more she might have expended herself on showy, useless tricks alongside Neville, tricks that would have kept her from working her best trick, to spare the first-years from being re-educated. "When I accepted them, they were _courageous_ enough to make it work between us," she emphasized unsubtly._

_He had frowned, wounded, probably, by the implications of some of what she said, but also thinking hard. She'd thrown too many Gryffindor key-words into her description for him to disregard her sincerity. "I… need to break down one more of Voldemort's defenses. And then we'll finish this fight. You and I – you're one of the most important people to me, Gin. Promise me… promise me you'll take care, Ginny?"_

"_Yeah," she had said, reluctantly._

"_And," his smile had twisted rather lopsidedly, "when all this is done, we'll figure out how to be friends?"_

"_Of course," she had promised him much more freely._

_But she'd come down after the battle in the Hall, after Voldemort was dead, to find out that he'd not been planning on a 'when this is done,' not for himself._

"_Take care, Ginny," he'd said again, pleadingly, when he'd wrapped up his description of the final battle. After he'd described what had been going through his head on his walk through the Forbidden Forest – the lives of everyone he knew, and how desperately he wished for them to have the peace and happiness and normality that he'd never had, how he'd particularly imagined her living her life and sharing love that could never otherwise be possible, how he was grateful to be able to go to meet the Dark Lord and know he wasn't going to irrevocably devastate her life – she'd broken down sobbing on him. _

_Unfair – he'd been the one who was dead. But he was the one who brushed tears off her face with a wide-eyed, 'please stop crying, Merlin-I-can't-handle-this,' look of panic on his face, and so in the middle of a sniffle she burst out laughing at him, the hero who'd died for everyone, then killed the Darkest Lord in centuries, and still didn't know what to do about crying girls._

_Then he'd shared with her just one story from Snape's memories, about his mother. That had put a stop both to her laughing and her tears – with shock, and a bit of unease, she noted the parallels between herself and Lily Potter. He had, too, evidently: "That's what struck me most, when my mum's image appeared from the Resurrection Stone." He'd smiled in a watery way, and brushed the hair out of her face. "Just as well we've not worked out. I'd hardly want to be dating my mum, after all." The jest came out strained, which bruised Ginny's heart (and conscience) somewhat. She'd been awfully cavalier about ditching him… the only consolation she had was Harry's unending goodwill, and that by making him single again, she was guaranteeing him a chance to find someone who loved him truly._

"_So… go, and be happy?" he'd half asked, half ordered her._

"_And you too," she insisted, still wildly concerned about him, since he'd as good as attempted suicide six hours before._

"_How could I not be?" he asked, looking over her shoulder, and turning a tad, she saw Hermione and Ron not far away. She beamed at them as well, still marveling at the survival of so many. Of course, thoughts of Fred immediately crowded her, and tears immediately sprang back into her eyes._

_Sympathetic, Harry had grabbed her hand. "Take care, Ginny," he said again, solemnly, before going to regroup with his beloved best friends._

Remembering that conversation, Ginny's eyes stung madly all over again. Hopping into the Floo to Angelina's flat, a lie about the chimney malfunctioning and smoking, causing her eyes to water, was already preparing itself in her mind.

* * *

Luna giggled so drunkenly at her own joke that Ginny couldn't help laughing. Or – intending to laugh, anyway. But she'd matched Luna drink for drink, so it came out as more of a snort than anything else. That earned her a brief, reproving glance from Hermione. At that hint of stodginess, Ginny nudged Angelina. "Hadn't you better give yours to Hermione?" Angelina hiccupped blankly, then, just as blankly, obediently pushed her full tumbler of bourbon down the table. Satisfied with the redistribution of drinks, Ginny settled back and slurped some more at her White Russian.

"So you said you needed us from – for –you know what I meant – you wanted us to do something?" Luna finally asked languidly, turning to Lavender.

"Something that apparently requires being sloshed?" Ginny asked, still bubbling with laughter.

For the first time that evening, Lavender gave them a wicked grin, finally smiling broadly enough that it tugged at her scars. "Liquid courage, ladies."

Angelina perked up. "Ooh, do tell."

"If it's a strip club-" broke in Hermione warningly.

"Nope," assured Lavender.

"Brill idea though," murmured Luna in a quiet tone that only Ginny and Lavender could hear. Ginny snickered again.

"Strip club?" Angelina repeated fuzzily.

Lavender sighed. "Well, merciful Merlin, if it's that important to you we can go _afterward_."

"After _what_?!" they chorused, eager to get to the point.

Lav looked pleased that they were finally back on topic. "To celebrate all of us being here. To commemorate what we lost in the war," she said in a solemn tone, but her grin was still absolutely evil.

"By doing… _what?!?_" Gin urged her, nearly screeching in excitement.

"Tattoos. By getting tattoos." Lavender was utterly pleased with the flat silence that followed and the stunned expressions.

"That's dangerous," Luna and Hermione objected immediately.

Ginny had caught the point – "She doesn't mean magical ones, guys, do you, Lavender?" Lavender shook her head. "We hardly have the Galleons for them, anyway."

Angelina, a bit more clear-eyed with anticipation, nodded. "Ha, don't have hundreds of Galleons to spare, speaking for myself. But Muggle tattoos – once we convert Galleons to pounds – it'd only be the equivalent of maybe six, seven Galleons."

Hermione frowned. "More like ten or fifteen," she corrected, more familiar with the exchange rate, and with Muggle prices, than the half- and purebloods were. "And more than that, if you wanted something extravagant." Ginny felt a bubble of exhilaration rise in her – rather than shooting down the idea right off the bat, her stodgy best friend was talking technical details!

A smile was growing on Luna's face. "Right then – off to Gringotts to change the money?"

* * *

It had been a sticky-hot day, but had turned into a warm, perfect late-summer night. They stumbled round the block to Diagon Alley in a giggling, snickering state of anticipation, discussing what they wanted to get.

Lavender wouldn't tell anyone what her design was, except to say that she'd been working on it for a month, but she had already explained that she wanted to conquer what had happened to her during the Hogwarts Battle, just as she wanted to conquer her fear of needles. At the mention of the battle, Angelina had grown pensive, and now she wasn't sharing with anyone what her idea was.

Luna had no such compunctions, and was telling Ginny, "So I was thinking, where's the best place for Neville to be riding a Crumple-Horned Snorcack, and when we were at Gringotts I thought my back would be the best place. But then I realized that it didn't need to be that big, and that I could put it somewhere more meaningful. That's when I thought of putting it on my side, just next to my chest, since Neville really likes _that_ –" Hermione, who was eavesdropping, clearly was regretting her nosiness, gaping awkwardly – "Oh, actually, you already knew that, didn't you Gin, you'd walked in on us that one time…" Luna trailed off.

To fight off the red swamping her cheeks in awkwardness at that memory, Ginny opted to continue baiting Hermione. "You weren't so bad compared to some, as far as getting caught goes."

Hermione squawked, before scurrying to catch up with Lavender's purposeful march at the head of their cluster. "Is she alright? A Wrackspurt hasn't gotten her, has it?" Luna asked with a fretful frown.

"Not a Wrackspurt, just a bad memory… or several. I told you how when I walked in on her and Ron having sex, and shrieked, and everyone in the family found out about them, and she got a touch vicious and accused me of doing it on purpose so my parents would focus on someone other than _me_?"

"Right – that's when I'd first worried about her and Wrackspurts…" Luna nodded sagely.

Ginny snickered, stumbled, caught herself on a Muggle lamp-post, and continued, "Yeah, well, after they got caught by… let's see, Dad, Percy, and Mr. Diggory's maid down the lane – oh, and Bill, sorry, that was out in the woods though – yeah, after that, she realized I was just the first unfortunate victim of Ron's insistence to… how did she put it… 'shag anywhere, anytime, drop everything on the first whim to shag.'"

"Sounds like a typically infantile Ronald-esque approach," Luna sniffed – she'd never understood Ginny's brother. Or, perhaps, just understood him all too well.

"This is the one!" Lav squealed from up ahead, and boys were forgotten as the girls raced to catch up and rush into the shop in a tight, giggly knot.

Lav immediately produced a piece of paper and showed it to the first free tattoo artist, and hurried off without consulting anyone else. Angelina, Hermione, Luna and Ginny clustered around the design samples.

Angelina still hadn't told any of them what she was getting or why, but when she pointed out the design she wanted, Ginny and Hermione instantly knew what was going through her head – she'd selected a fiery red fireworks display. "Can I have this on my lower back?" she asked the tattoo artist waiting nearby.

Ginny gave Angelina a small, reassuring smile. "Couldn't find a more perfectly suitable tattoo. Fred would be over the moon," she assured her.

Angelina, surprisingly, actually broke into a broad, fond smile. "He would." Her grin was completely satisfied – until the Muggle grabbed the needle-gun. "Ah, hell… guess it can't be worse than a Bludger to the back, though, right?" she asked Ginny through now-gritted teeth.

"At least you won't be able to see it happen, right?" Luna added sympathetically as she scanned a variety of animals, trying to find something she could use as a basis to approximate a Crumple-Horned Snorcack without trying to tell a Muggle what one was.

Ginny, meanwhile, was side-tracked, skimming through a section of a book labeled 'Traditional' tattoos. The Muggles had _no_ idea what a mermaid looked like, she giggled, thinking of the prefects' bathroom and the things that that mermaid had presumably witnessed. Then she turned the page, and one aspect of what she'd thought she wanted slotted right into place.

Another perfect night with the boys arose in her memory, almost as sensual as that time in the prefects' bathroom – up on the top of a tower, being painted with runes by Blaise, and finding translations for them, later. His own had meant "Love's Anchor," and Draco had called him his 'anchor' many a time. She felt that way about him, too, remembering how his humor, maddening though it was, kept her sane, helped her keep her innocence through the increasing horrors of the past year at Hogwarts. She marked the place in that book and kept looking.

It was must easier to find the one she wanted for Draco – in a mystical-themed book, which was ironic as he was the only one of the three of them not to take Divination, calling it the rubbish it probably was. She hesitated over it a moment longer – her idea for her second tattoo was a bit more prosaic than her first, but she had an idea for where to put it that more than made up for it.

Idly, just waiting for an artist to be free now, she watched Hermione pick out a script she liked, and obligingly listened to her soon-to-be sister-in-law natter on about where to put Ron's initials, eventually deciding that RBW should go at the nape of her neck "where Ron likes to kiss me when he's being particularly romantic." Before Hermione could rattle on about any subsequent things that tended to follow such kisses, an artist was freed up and waved her over.

Now it was just a matter of mustering up some Gryffindor-level courage…

* * *

Ginny had surprised her mother by returning home with Hermione instead of later, with one of her boyfriends. And she'd surprised her boyfriends by putting off hanging out with them until the date they'd arranged for the following Thursday. Granted, if either her mother or her boyfriends knew she'd just gotten tattoos, they'd have understood her reluctance to 'be physically intimate,' as her mother would have put it. She and Hermione did tell Molly about Lavander's purpose in gathering them all together, how she wanted moral support for the Muggle tattoo she'd finally, when it was complete, revealed to the circle of girls excitedly waiting, a giant howling she-wolf under a moon, a scene of beauty she said had been helping her come to terms with the mauling she'd taken in the final battle.

It just so happened that the date they'd scheduled for Thursday was also only a few days before the anniversary of the fateful Ministry party in which Blaise had cornered, then seduced Draco. Ginny truly could hardly wait. Finally, Thursday came around, but not before a great deal of preparation on everyone's parts. Apparently Draco's mother was prudish enough, and Blaise's so promiscuous, that neither could imagine Ginny would possibly be able to have a conversation with her mother in which sex didn't figure awkwardly. So they took care to have plans for at least a fair number of her dates with them, so that she would have as least some innocuous answers when her family asked what she'd been up to with her boyfriends. Their ideas were increasingly whimsical – today's theme was a 'picnic,' to take place somewhere off in a forest. Where the forest actually was, she didn't know; Blaise said somewhere in Scotland, and he was picking her up and Side-Along Apparating her. Ginny's responsibility had been cucumber sandwiches.

Draco, annoyingly, outdid her yet again – his handmade lemonade and cupcakes were long gone before either of the three of them turned to the lightly squashed sandwiches.

"You know, it's cheating to have your house elves do it, Draco," she jibed sourly.

His eyes wide, emphasizing his supposed innocence, he protested, "I? Cheat? I'm hurt – I wrung my poor hands half to death squeezing those lemons… not to mention beating the eggs…"

Ginny harrumphed, still only giving him credit for, at best, having actually supervised the house elves' cooking in person. She worked on being domestically-useful in another way. "Well, unless we're going to lick all the frosting off the box from the cupcakes, we'd best get rid of all this – we _definitely_ don't want any insects near here."

"Too right," Blaise said cheerfully. "That's why I banished all the insects from this meadow."

She looked around – 'meadow' was less accurate a term than 'field' or perhaps 'plain' – the tree-line was practically out of sight. Long grass and tufts of swaying weeds and wildflowers dominated every side around them. "Extravagant, ridiculous boy," she accused him, trying to figure out how a pest-banishing spell could even extend that far.

"Grouch," he accused her right back. "I think the heat is getting to you. You should strip off all those bothersome clothes."

She had worn rather more clothing than was necessary on such a nice day, but that was intentional. She didn't want to ruin the surprise. For that matter, she was reluctant and anxious about giving it away too fast. "Convince me the trouble of taking them off is worth it," she challenged him, reclining back on her elbows.

Blaise and Draco exchanged amused looks, and, rather than besetting her with snogging and petting and perhaps a bit of grinding against her to 'convince' her, went for each other's crotches.

She was about to whine, but caught herself. Wouldn't want to be a complete grouch, now, she mused. And, well, Draco made such nice faces as Blaise pinched one of his nipples through his shirt… and when Draco's hand drifted automatically to Blaise's waist, one hand fixing on the swell of Blaise's arse and the other stroking and encouraging the growing swell under his trousers, Blaise's look of relieved rapture was entrancing enough that she let them carry on till Draco had pinned Blaise against the ground, as the heftier boy thrust his hips up, arcing against Draco.

"Ahem," she coughed mildly, when (unsurprisingly) she couldn't catch either of their eyes. "I think that was a really, really compelling argument in favor of my getting undressed." They smirked when she licked her lips, and sat up attentively when one of her hands played with the hem of her shirt, and the other brushed her all-too pointy nipples.

"Turn around," she started to order them, but then changed her mind – "Here, Blaise, get over on _this_ side of me… Draco, sit over here by my feet." They gave her mildly annoyed frowns, but obeyed. "NOW turn around." Blaise, about as biddable as ever, continued sitting as he was, only closing his eyes. "Come on, give me a break. You're about the last person I'd ever trust not to peek," she chided him.

"And what would be wrong with peeking?" Draco wanted to know, but Ginny ignored him, since he'd complied right away and Blaise was now reluctantly turning to face out across the meadow as well. She began to peel off her halter top and cropped pants, then knickers, aiming the latter at the back on Blaise's head.

He snatched the bit of lace immediately, delicately giving it a sniff. "Smells like sex," he snickered. "At least I'm not the only one burning up with impatience." Which was a fair accusation – she'd been wet and eager long before even the demonstration between the two just now, probably from the moment the boys had set up an illusory perimeter around the meadow to turn back intruders… or voyeurs.

Settling back on the blanket, she was careful to sit cross-legged, her belly bared towards Draco, and she flipped her hair to the right side, pulling every loose strand over her right shoulder to keep her left one bared for Blaise. She waited just one more moment for the sun to come back out from behind one of the few clouds out today – wouldn't do to have less than perfect lighting for this surprise.

When the sun washed over her again, sinking into her skin with a warmth that made her feel only more hedonistic and wanton, she ordered in a low, seductive voice, "You can turn around now – _if_ you strip first."

Sighing heavily, as if they were completely and terribly burdened by her oh-so-inconvenient demands, they obeyed, and a shiver zinged up Ginny's spine at Draco's pale, narrow waist, arse, and thighs bared to the world. Thinking about Blaise's, behind her, gave her another little shiver. She couldn't wait any longer. "Turn around," she coaxed them again, and they did.

Her only disappointment was not being able to see both their faces at the same time – Draco's went from round-eyed astonishment to a very smug smirk indeed in half a second, so she whipped round to see Blaise's reaction. His smirk was much more fondly pleased, but both of them radiated smugness as they sank down to either side of her on the blanket. Checking back on Draco again, she saw that, yes, it had had the desired physical effect as well as emotional. She didn't need to examine Blaise's lap – he was already spooned around her, thighs on either side of her own, and very hard indeed as he pressed against her lower back.

"Happy anniversary," she told them, blushing at the overwhelming pleasure in both their faces, and rather pleased herself, to surprise them by celebrating the anniversary of the boys' relationship. They were as delighted as she had any reason to expect, to see that she wanted something of them on her skin, and wanted to commemorate the start of their relationship, as well. Blaise traced the curves of the dainty, pointed anchor on her shoulder, taking up the plane of her shoulder blade. Nearly knocking heads with him, Draco craned over her shoulder to see as well, and he was the one who spotted that the anchor was the same vivid blue as Blaise's eyes – the Muggle artist had called it something like 'crayola cerulean.'

Then, of course, it was necessary for both her naked boyfriends to slither round her and admire the one on her belly together – the lithe dragon, scales picked out in starlight, because it exactly mirrored the constellation Draco, curved down one side of her stomach, ending with its head angled downward, jaws wide, poised to devour… something.

They still hadn't said anything; feeling the awkward urge to fill the silence with explanations, Ginny reminisced, "When I decided on the anchor, I was thinking of the night I decided to have sex with you, when we had your little Slytherin Astronomy lesson. Even though you were a _prat_ about me wanting to have sex with you –" the bite in her tone was cancelled out by the way she leaned back against Blaise's chest, the top of her head settling neatly beneath his chin. "The rune that you put on yourself, 'Love's anchor' – it was too fitting. It was exactly the reason I found myself in a position where I wanted to sleep with you two."

Blaise flushed at her immensely fond smile up at him, and Ginny flushed as Draco met her eyes with a burning intensity. "You're a perceptive little FOTA," he murmured, realizing she must have heard his quiet, fervent assertions a few times, during the stresses of the last school year, that Blaise was his sanity, his balance, and ultimately, his anchor.

Beating back her blush, she carried on, "Now, when I picked out the tattoo for Draco – well, no, deciding on the actual tattoo was really easy – when I picked out the _location_ for the tattoo, I was thinking of Valentine's – well, obviously, since that was the first time you went down on me, Draco, and I just _had_ to commemorate that skill. But it was also the first time, for all my romance-novel-reading and Pleasure-Snitch-using, that I really craved the thought of having you two inside me. And it was, specifically, you two, too."

Small little smiles quirked on both boys' lips. Blaise chuckled.

"What?" she asked plaintively, not thinking she'd said anything especially funny.

"Just that…" he paused, gathered her up in his arms, so she was reclining on his lap. Draco immediately scooted in so he was directly alongside her, his hands able to reach everywhere. His fingers immediately started brushing across her hips and the tops of her thighs, the lines he traced curving just shy of the tattoo, and the object of the dragon's attentions. Blaise took up the line of conversation she'd nearly forgotten at that point – "Well, Fota, you're a bit slower than Draco and I. It's endearing, really…"

"What?!" she squawked, at which Draco's fingers skirted across the tattoo and down, to plunge into the wetness that had been waiting for him.

"Well, _we_ just figured it all out way before you, is all, love." Blaise was still chuckling. She kind of wanted to bite him.

"Pretty much from the second we saw you sleeping on the train, we desired you, wanted to be inside you," Draco said. They had told her about that maybe three weeks ago – how they'd fallen into lust with her on the ride to Hogwarts, before Blaise ever approached her in the hallway to harass her, before Draco had even talked himself into accepting that a Weasley could be attractive, because he didn't even know who she was at that point. Ginny started to melt between the two boys, at that reference.

Then Blaise opened his patronizing mouth again. "Don't feel bad how much smarter we were than you – I mean, we figured it out in the beginning of September, and you got on board in February… that's only… how many months?"

With a hiss at him, she wrenched out of his arms. "You – right there," she ordered, a hand on Blaise's chest to shove him with a thump onto his back. Since her other hand flew to Draco's cock, he smirked and laid back, hands under his head to watch.

She knelt with her knees on either side of Draco's waist, and made short work of teasing Draco – shortly, he was bucking under her smooth hand strokes. When he breathed a raspy "Please?" she sank down on him immediately.

Blaise was being so, so good watching. He knew Ginny would snap at him if he let his hands wander down to stroke himself. So he did his best to ignore the way his aching hard-on bobbled in the summer air, and watched his boyfriend get thoroughly fucked by their girlfriend. Draco was getting closer and closer – he could tell as though he were the one inside the short blonde – and Blaise was enraptured. Then Ginny halted, and looked his way.

He pulled a 'who-me?' face and received a crooked finger, telling him 'come hither.' Instantly he was balanced on his knees behind Ginny, wand out to conjure oil. "No," she told him.

"No?" he asked, puzzled.

Her response was peals of laughter. "Hah! The oh-so-smart boy can't figure it out, can he?"

He blinked, unintelligently.

"You don't need oil. Draco's gotten me plenty ready…" she said, in the tone of utmost patience, slowly enunciating.

The expression on his face as that hit home must have been something else, because now Draco was barking with laughter at him as well. "Good lord," he drawled, "I do think he's got it, Ginny." She smirked agreement.

"_I've_ got it, now," he said sourly. Then he grinned widely. Probably he looked quite wicked, but he couldn't help it, in the face of such tantalizing excitement. "I've got it… have you?"

In response she shifted forward, laying tamely along Draco's chest.

Heart pounding, Blaise cautiously began to join his boyfriend, buried deep in Ginny.

It was, he decided a few minutes later, securely lodged in Ginny, both heaven and hell at once. The sensation of Ginny around him, and Draco against him, meant it was hellishly hard to retain any sort of control. He had contemplated this far back before Ginny had ever indicated any likelihood that she would let them near her, and ordered himself at the time that he would proceed with all caution if he got this chance – he didn't want to hurt Ginny.

In reality, now that it was happening, he fought like mad not to lose control just because he couldn't bear the idea that this might end, it felt too good. So it was slowly that he and Draco began to thrust, grinning at Ginny's fast, hard breathing the second they began to move.

In truth, it didn't go nearly as long as he'd hoped, but it was a truly wild ride while it lasted. Fortunately, Ginny broke before either of them, and when she jerked between them with a shrill noise, clamping down, they both lost it as well – lost control, lost any sense of anything except how _fucking_ good it was. When awareness returned, in fact, Blaise faintly realized he was muttering that over and over. "Merlin, so fucking good…"

Ginny was dizzy with the intensity and exertion of her wild coupling with them. But even more, she was dizzy with how amazing it had felt, how perfectly together the three of them had been, in a beautiful, symmetric way, Draco below her and Blaise above her, both stabbing deep as all three of them, simultaneously, hit their release.

She exhaled deeply, the satisfaction penetrating her quite as thoroughly as her lovers' bodies were. Having them make love to her for the first time after she'd gotten herself all marked up as a present for them… It was as emotionally powerful as that first time they'd managed to reunite after the Final Battle, only the second time ever that Ginny had even had sex. That long month and a half between the first and second time had been torturous, and the reunion was rapturous – awkwardly enough, she was still dreamy over it the following day. Awkward, because that was the first night Harry had been beset by nightmares about his own death, swamped with belated guilt and horror that he had, effectively, killed himself, and just to complicate it all, lingering shame at even questioning his heroic action. Ultimately, though, the balance fell on rapturous because, after all the tribulations of the period between Easter and the Final Battle, being back with them again was astounding, a fairy tale ending.

Lost in reminisces and love for her boyfriends, she would have been content to stay between the two bodies of her boyfriends, regardless of the beating sun, all afternoon.

Until – "Yagh!" she cried out, as Draco ran a finger along her neck. In the sensitivity of the afterglow, it was unbearably ticklish. Her yelp was echoed by a yowl by Blaise, and a stinging in her knee where hers had knocked into his.

Blaise withdrew and collapsed on the blanket – and Ginny's foot, so she stifled a squawk and jabbed her toe into his side in revenge. In the midst of his boyfriend and girlfriend's noises of indignation, Draco, snickering, sat up and resumed tickling, with intent this time.

_Fairy tale, indeed – more like fucking pixies,_ she thought grimly, and helped Blaise hold Draco down on his stomach so that Blaise could shove himself deep inside him. Somehow, even pinned as he was by their boyfriend, Draco managed to launch off the balls of his feet – Blaise yelped – and skid forward a few feet, between Ginny's legs, where his tongue went mad, eliciting helpless moans. The second she stopped scrambling away and scooted closer, though, he seized her feet and tickled them torturously, setting her off screaming with the mixture of sensations and thrashing about, unable to decide whether she wanted to get closer or escape.

The question became moot when Blaise flipped himself and Draco over so his boyfriend was sitting on his lap, and when Ginny made to hide behind Blaise's back, he grabbed both her wrists. Somehow, despite the energetic sex they were having, they dragged her around in front of Draco, four hands insistently inclining her head towards his erection. She obliged, but reached around and got in a hard pinch on each of their arses that made Blaise squeal.

_Alright, pixies is too kind. I think we're a pack of vicious doxies,_ she admitted to herself.

That was about when Blaise cast Wingardium Leviosa, and a small pink ball rose, humming, out of the picnic basket and bee-lined at Ginny…

They were helpless and aching with laughter by the time the battle and the sex had ceased. "Fucking hell, Draco. _And_ you, Blaise. You prats can't behave long enough to let a single idyllic moment last…"

"HA!" was Blaise's scoffing rejoinder. "Idyllic, my arse." Draco promptly grabbed that arse, which still bore red marks from Ginny's slightly sadistic pinches. "Since when are we characters in one of Hieberus's books, Gin?"

She pouted at his sly jab. Then her lips inched back up into an equally sly smile. "Since never. We're infinitely more creative and kinky, aren't we?"

"We are," he affirmed, prompting Draco to try and prove it, despite the general exhaustion, until sometime after twilight.

The. Fucking. End. (But never the end of the fucking.)

* * *

_A.N. - and that's it, people. Finito. __Thank you all for your encouragement along the way - it's tonnes easier to write when you know someone is excited to read it. Love you all! __Now, my work here is done. Hope it passes muster... _


End file.
